


The Pirate & the Porcelain Doll...

by Lymers



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/F, Passion, Reunions, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 80,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24494524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lymers/pseuds/Lymers
Summary: Waverly watched as Nicole approached. You are dangerous with those eyes. Dangerous and delicious...
Relationships: Waverly Earp & Willa Earp & Wynonna Earp, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 414
Kudos: 450





	1. the Pirate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly meets Nicole for the first time...

“The first time I met her she frightened me,” Waverly whispered to her friend. “It has been the same ever since.”

“There’s certainly something wild about her,” her companion replied. “Something untamed, trapped within her soul, seeking release. They say she’s declined three marriage proposals. Her mother is at her wits’ end.”

Waverly watched as the familiar figure approached. _You scare me,_ she thought, _and excite me at the same time. You are dangerous, with those eyes of yours. Dangerous and delicious. And deadly. And, you will be the death of me Nicole Haught._

Waverly was no more than three years of age when the girl with flame-red hair burst into her life, forging a memory so deep it would stay with her forever. Her family was attending a weekend house party at the estate owned by Nicole’s father in Buckinghamshire, travelling from London, where wealthy families like hers resided during the week with other wealthy families and where wealthy ladies, like her mother, took tea with other wealthy ladies most afternoons. Her father, William Earp, was a close friend of the Haughts, members of both families intermingling socially and secretly, love trysts abounding behind the backs of dull husbands and equally dull wives. 

Waverly was a pretty little thing. Perfect like a porcelain doll and as delicate, her sisters inheriting the angular jaw of their father, Waverly blessed with her mother’s finer features and mannerisms. An easy child, unfussy, quiet, content with the world and all that was in it. Doted on by her family, especially her mother, her middle sister equally adoring of this beautiful, fragile living doll her mother delivered to the family early one autumn. 

Waverly had been unwell a few days prior to the planned visit to Wattlestone, the grand house built by Nicole’s father to entertain his wealthy friends and the British aristocracy. Her mother fretted about taking her darling child on a long journey by train, fearing it would be too much, her father reassuring his wife the trip would do his youngest daughter the world of good, a chance to breathe the clean air of the countryside. He understood his wife well enough to know she would be anxious to leave her daughter with their nanny for an entire weekend. Better to have a sick child with them than a sullen wife on the end of his arm. 

Carriages awaited their arrival at the station, the family seating themselves in one, embarking on the short journey to the house, their luggage travelling behind in another. Even for a short stay Waverly’s mother had a tendency to over pack when it came to clothing, preferring to have plenty of options on hand for her and the girls. There were six dresses alone for Waverly, her mother unsure which would suit her pale complexion and an assortment of cardigans to keep her warm.

As they drew near, the family caught its first glimpse of the house. An ornate building, fashioned in the style of a French Renaissance châteaux, which would not have looked out of place in the Loire valley, Nicole’s father engaging a French architect to oversee the entire project. It was intended to be used only at weekends that is, until Nicole’s mother grew tired of the smoggy confines of their London residence in Piccadilly, refusing to return, preferring to remain at their colossal country retreat with its beautifully landscaped gardens. 

This left Nicole’s father with the task of travelling each weekend to their country estate to see his wife and five children, four rowdy boys and an equally rowdy girl. Nicole, the youngest, like Waverly, who to the frustration of her mother, acted just like a boy, refusing to wear a dress on most occasions, refusing to wear clothes entirely for the first three years of her life, often to be found on the grand staircase completely naked to the amusement of her parent’s guests. 

The house was modern by the standards of the time. Running water and central heating were installed from the start, electricity in 1889 to the delight of Nicole’s mother. A small lift was even added for Queen Victoria’s visit, a year later, although she declined to ride in it, not trusting the magic of electricity. 

Twenty seven indoor staff were employed, a modest figure for a house that size, although perfectly adequate for the family’s needs. They comprised a steward, a housekeeper, cook, kitchen and scullery maids, housemaids, footmen, a porter, there was even an attendant for the electric lights, an odd job man, a hall boy, a needlewoman and a nanny. All living and working together under one vast roof in the service of one family. 

Eight more staff worked in the laundry and the dairy, plus sixteen in the stables, including grooms and coachmen. Not to mention countless gardeners to maintain the extensive grounds that surrounded the house. A French chef and Italian pastry-maker would travel with Nicole’s father from London when he visited, a special treat Nicole looked forward to the most, being allowed to stay up a little later, feasting on the sweetest of desserts prepared for the guests. It was also an occasion to enjoy her father’s company, sitting on his lap, clothed on his insistence, he reading to her after supper, another special treat for being his only daughter much to the annoyance of Nicole’s brothers. 

Nicole’s mother was waiting at the entrance as the carriages pulled up. She greeted the family, pleased to see Waverly’s mother after some time parted from her dear friend. Nicole’s father would be joining them later, an important meeting keeping him in London longer than he would have liked. Waverly remained in her mother’s arms, shy at seeing all the new faces and exhausted from the journey. She was taken to the nursery where she would be sleeping for the duration of their stay, her mother settling her into a new bed, which smelt different to her own. Too tired to really care she closed her eyes, hugging her favourite doll Ellie close to her chest.

She would have remained like that for most of the afternoon had it not been for Nicole, bursting in on her, pretending to be a pirate escaping the clutches of other pirates, namely her brothers. The sound of her yelling she would never be taken alive woke the little girl with a start, staring at the bare-chested child who towered over her bed brandishing a wooden sword, a scarf tied round her head hiding her distinctive hair and a patch over one eye. It was the first time anyone had heard Waverly scream.

The events that followed ensured Nicole Haught would stay with her forever. The Haught’s nanny rushed in to see why Waverly was making such a noise, only to find Nicole backing away from the child, a perplexed look on her face, wondering why this small girl was in her bed. “Look what you’ve done, you naughty child,” the nanny said, glaring at Nicole. “This poor child is unwell and now she’s crying. Be off, before I tell your mother what you did.”

“But, that’s my bed,” Nicole protested. “Why’s she in my bed? And, why’s she in my room.”

“Because she is a guest. You know full well she was coming to stay. This is Waverly. Waverly will be staying here with you. So, no scaring her again. There, there, you poor thing. Come have a cuddle.”

Waverly held out her arms, her tear-filled eyes glued on Nicole, her little body trembling as she clung to the nanny’s neck, not wanting to be left alone with whoever this new child was. This frighteningly loud child, with only one eye.

At the age of eight, Nicole was the last of the Haught children to reside in the nursery, her elder brothers having their own rooms in the vast house. She didn’t mind, despite it being lonely sometimes, as she got all the toys to herself, spending hours playing with her brothers’ tiny tin soldiers and canons, marching her army into battle, unaware as a girl the army life was reserved for men, dreaming of leading her own charge against an approaching enemy, sword glistening as she waved it to show the way. 

Her mother insisted she be bought dolls each Christmas, a look of disappointment on her face unwrapping box, after box to find porcelain faces staring back at her. Discarding them without a moment’s thought, she would hover over the shoulders of her brothers, watching as they unwrapped telescopes and tennis rackets and all manner of fascinating presents, making a mental note to borrow whatever they might have when they were not looking. Many a time she had been sent to bed early for taking something that didn’t belong to her, insisting she was about to give it back, knowing that would not be the case. She still had the telescope hidden in a secret location, denying all knowledge of its whereabouts.

Nicole hung by the door, eyes fixed on Waverly, not liking it one little bit she would have to share her space and possibly her toys with this snivelling infant, who looked like one of her unwanted presents. Waverly too never took her eyes off Nicole. The nanny rubbed her back allowing her to settle, turning to see Nicole poke her tongue out at the little girl, shouting at her to apologise and put a shirt on, Waverly poking her tongue out too over the shoulder of the nanny, watching the older child wave her sword in the air.

“Never. Pirates don’t wear shirts, or apologise,” she shouted heading off to find the others. “To the death. Traitors walk the plank.”

She could not recall seeing Nicole again that weekend, too young to retain every detail. In fact, she had not, the nanny having instructed a housemaid to get another bedroom ready for Nicole, fearing she would disturb the young child sleeping in her bed, or worse involve her in one of her raucous games. It would be three years before their paths crossed again, another house party to which Waverly and her sisters had been invited, during a particularly warm summer. Her mother was especially looking forward to returning with her family to Wattlestone, having been a solo guest on previous occasions, enjoying walks in the grounds with her female host, discussing the latest fashions and affairs. 

Waverly stepped out of the carriage, wearing her finest dress, a light blue coat completing her outfit. She had no recollection of the house, or the grounds, it all looking new, yet her eyes scanned the party assembled at the entrance, searching for someone she couldn’t be sure she would recognise. There, at the back of the group she spotted a face she thought she knew, pulling at the neck of the dress she wore, red hair almost tied back. _Could this be my pirate,_ she thought, _the one who nearly stole me away. Surely not, this person is much taller and a girl. My pirate is a boy._

The family made their way into the house, bags dispatched to rooms, afternoon tea served on the terrace, the scent of lavender thick in the air. Her pirate, if that was her pirate, was nowhere to be seen, presumably off fighting battles on the high seas. Their mother suggested the girls go for a walk in the grounds, reminding them to be back in time to dress for dinner. Waverly still had her favourite porcelain doll clutched to her chest, holding Wynonna’s hand, Willa strolling confidently ahead telling them she knew the way to the folly in the woods. Waverly wasn’t sure this was such a good idea, gripping Wynonna’s hand tighter as they ventured further into unknown territory. 

Suddenly, the sound of shouts burst through the trees, whoops and yells coming from all around them. From nowhere, a gang of bare-chested boys descended on their group, brandishing their wooden swords and bows, making Waverly scream for the second time in her life. And there, in the middle of this gang was her pirate, now out of her dress and in shorts, similarly bare-chested, waving her sword aloft, shouting at the top of her voice. “Capture the doll. She walks the plank at sunset.”

Waverly clasped her precious Ellie to her chest, determined not to let her go, determined not to let this horrid pirate steal her away. Wynonna in turn was clasping Waverly, the doll sandwiched between them. “How dare you scare us like that. Over my dead body will you get the doll. Do you hear?”

Nicole approached, the other boys standing back, suitably chastised at having frightened their young female guests. “We need a sacrifice. You have trespassed into our hideaway.”

A swift kick to the shins from Wynonna told her no sacrifice would be forthcoming. Nicole retreated rubbing her leg, poking her tongue out at Waverly. Waverly simply smiled. She had found her pirate. 

The girls dined in a separate room to the adults, joined by Nicole and her brothers. Waverly sat at the opposite end of the table, craning her neck as best she could to spy the wayward child dressed once more in female clothing looking decidedly uncomfortable. Her sisters made polite small talk with their hosts, a boy sitting next to Waverly attempting to make conversation with her, failing to draw her attention away from the person she most wanted to speak to. At the end of the meal, the older children were allowed to stay up, Waverly escorted to the nursery where she had slept on her first visit. 

Nightgown on, she sat reading to Ellie, a small night light beside her bed providing just enough of a glow for that purpose. She heard the door knob rattle, a creaking sound as the door opened slowly, assuming it to be the nanny come to wish her goodnight. Nicole’s face appeared, looking in, hesitant at first to enter.

“You shan’t have her,” Waverly said, clutching her doll closer. “She’s mine. And, she doesn’t like walking planks.”

Nicole entered, still wearing the dress, the ribbon no longer in her hair. “I’ve been instructed to apologise for my behaviour. Your doll will be spared on this occasion.”

She plonked herself on the floor, grabbing a handful of miniature soldiers, proceeding to make them fight each other. Waverly watched her pirate, curious as to what she was doing, never having played with soldiers. “I’m Waverly. And, this is Ellie. She goes everywhere with me.”

“I know,” Nicole replied. 

“How could you know?” Waverly asked. “You don't know where Ellie goes.”

“I know you are Waverly. You were here before. In my bed. I made you cry.”

“You keep scaring me. And, you only had one eye.”

Nicole looked at her, wondering what on earth she was talking about. “Two. Unless. Oh, the eye patch. I was pretending to be a pirate. I can remove one eye if you like.”

“Can you?” Waverly asked, excitedly. “Can you really?”

“Of course not silly girl,” Nicole replied.

“I’m not silly. You’re silly being a pirate. Everyone knows pirates are boys.”

“I can be a pirate if I choose. I’m going to be a soldier when I’m older. I’m going to wear a bright red tunic and carry a real sword and ride a black horse into battle.”

“A real soldier?” Waverly asked. “I want to be a nurse. Maybe, I could put bandages on you when you are hurt.”

“I will never be hurt,” Nicole declared, standing, pocketing the soldiers in her hands. “I’m invincible.”


	2. the Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly wants to be friends...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The early chapters of this story are meant to be frivolous. A lightness that comes from being a child, carefree, without any of the burdens and baggage life suggests we might carry with us as we get older.
> 
> .

“I want to be a soldier,” Waverly announced at breakfast the next morning. “And, wear a red tune and ride a black horse.”

“To Banbury Cross,” Willa added, looking up briefly from her plate of kippers to make light of her sister’s curious career choice. “It's a red tunic. A soldier’s coat is called a tunic. Although, I believe the actual colour is scarlet.”

“Isn’t it a white horse?” Wynonna questioned. “No, a cock horse is ridden to Banbury Cross. Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine lady upon a white horse. That’s how the rhyme goes. And, no you can’t.” 

“Can,” Waverly insisted, pushing the remains of a half-eaten poached egg round her plate with a fork. “I can ride, as good as you.”

“How can you possibly be as good as me at riding? Or, anything. You’re only six. I meant, you can’t be a soldier. Isn’t that right Willa?”

“I believe so, “Willa replied, not bothering to look up this time, determined to remove as many miniscule bones as she could from the fish before her. “The army is reserved for men.”

“That girl wants to be a soldier,” Waverly continued. “She told me. I want to be a nurse, but now I think I would like to be a soldier and wear a red coat and wave a sword in the air…”

“Girls do not become soldiers, only boys.” Willa clarified. “That girl is too boyish for you to be listening to her.”

 _Willa is wrong,_ she thought. _My pirate will be a soldier. She is brave and knows how to fight with a sword._ Waverly placed her knife and fork across the plate as she had been shown by adults, scooping up the white linen napkin from her knee, dropping it on the table to the left of her plate. “She can be a boy if she wants. And, a soldier.” Waverly replied. 

It was Wynonna’s turn to educate her little sister. “Oh petal, that girl cannot be a boy. Because, she’s a girl. She doesn’t have what boys have.”

“Yes, she does,” Waverly persisted. “She has a sword. So there.”

Willa sighed audibly. “You’re too young to understand. Having a sword does not make you a boy. I’ll explain when you are older.”

Shouting and footsteps outside the breakfast room drew their attention to the presence of Nicole. Waverly’s face lit up, desperate to be allowed to leave the room. As the eldest, Willa was tasked with being their stand-in mother on these occasions, a role she didn’t much care for. “You may leave the table. Do not go anywhere near that uncouth girl. If I find out you have, I’ll tell mama and you’ll be sent to bed straight away.”

Waverly hesitated, knowing Willa would tell on her if she did, knowing the first thing she would do on leaving the table would be to find her exciting new friend. “I won’t. I’m going to play with Ellie.”

It was the first lie Waverly ever told. The muscles in her body tensed, having uttered such a fib to her sister, waiting to see if she would be caught out, or if her tongue would grow too large for her mouth, as her mother said it would. Her sisters said nothing, presumably believing her intentions to play with a doll. _Why would I play with a doll,_ she thought, _when I have a real pirate to play with?_

Wynonna waited until Waverly left the room. “What are the odds she’s off to find that girl?”

“I would say the odds are fairly high,” Willa replied. “Sword indeed.”

“You’re beginning to sound like mother. I think it’s endearing. Mind you, she’ll get a shock when she sees her first sword.”

“Nona!” Willa exclaimed. “We do not talk about men’s swords. Not in public and never at the dining table.”

“Just like mother,” Wynonna repeated, buttering another slice of toast.

Waverly closed the door to the breakfast room, listening for any sign of her new friend the pirate. The shouts were coming from outside. A glass-panelled door to the right led to the grounds, swinging slightly in the morning breeze, whoever had gone through before her having left it open, something she was told not to do in her own house. She ventured out, standing on the terrace where tea had been served on their arrival the previous afternoon, wondering in which direction she needed to go. 

“Boo!”

Waverly jumped, ready to scream, knowing if she did Willa would have her sent to bed. She turned to see her pirate friend standing behind her, wearing the same tan-coloured shorts, accompanied by a white shirt unbuttoned to the waist. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” Waverly replied defiantly, her eyes on the wooden sword in Nicole’s hand.

Nicole danced round her young guest. “I scared you. I scared you. I…”

“Shush. My sisters will hear. I mustn’t talk to you because you’re not a boy.”

Nicole stopped prancing, once more trying to work out what on earth Waverly meant. “Why can’t you talk to me?”

“I said, because you’re not a boy. Willa says you can’t be a soldier.”

“I can. I can be whatever I want. Today, I am Red, the fiercest pirate you ever did meet. I take scared little girls prisoner and make them eat worms for their supper. You know if you kiss a worm it turns into a prince. Or, that might be a frog. I’m not sure. Frog, worm, all the same. What shall it be, frog or a worm to kiss?”

Waverly let out a squeal, raising her hand to her mouth quickly to cover the sound as well as any attempts her pirate might make to get her to eat, or kiss, something horrid. She spoke through a tiny gap in her fingers. “I’m never eating worms, or kissing worms, or frogs. You can’t make me.”

“I can. And, I will. I’ll chase you and chase you and chase you. And, when I catch you I will make you open your mouth and I will place a fat wiggly worm inside. Or, the legs of a frog. Father is rather partial to those on...” She stopped mid-sentence, amused at her own rhyming words. “Father is rather partial. Father is rather partial.”

 _She would,_ Waverly thought, her stomach lurching, listening to Nicole repeat her silly phrase. _I know she would make me eat worms, or frogs. Poor frogs without legs. How do they hop? I could run away and hide. But, I’m sure she will catch me. Then what?_ Her hand dropped from her mouth. “I don’t believe you. You want to scare me, that’s all. I’m not scared of you. Or, worms. Or, frogs.” 

“Is that so? Then what shall it be?”

“Nothing. Thank you, I’ve already eaten. Can we play, please? I’d rather play tea parties than be chased and made to eat things.”

“I know. A big juicy spider, who sat down beside her, with long hairy legs,” Nicole suggested, holding one hand upside down in front of Waverly’s face, dancing her fingers.

Waverly couldn’t stop herself, her scream heard by both sisters, Willa giving Wynonna a look to say she should go see why their baby sister was making such a racket. Wynonna picked up the remaining half of toast she intended to eat, earning a glare from Willa, dropping it on the plate. She marched outside to find Nicole still tormenting Waverly with her spider hand, Waverly clearly enjoying the attention. “What did Willa say? I’ve a good mind to tell mama right now.”

“No, please. I didn’t speak to her. I promise.”

Wynonna eyed her sister, knowing full well she had, turning her attention to Nicole. “Would you mind not upsetting my little sister. There’s a good chap.”

“Don’t call me that.” Nicole snapped.

“Do forgive me. Only, you’re dressed like a boy and you act like a boy.”

“So. What’s it to you?”

“Come Waverly, let’s leave this young man to play pretend soldiers.”

Nicole raised her sword, threatening to lash out at Wynonna, Waverly shocked at the sudden change in her expression. “I’ve a good mind to…”

Wynonna stood her ground. “Really. You would hit me with a toy sword. A gentleman never raises his hand to a lady.” She grabbed her sister, dragging Waverly away, Nicole storming off into the grounds, muttering to herself. 

“I thought you said you were going to play with Ellie.” Wynonna said, as they entered the house.

“I only wanted to say hello. She was going to make me eat things. I don’t like spiders, you know that. And, I don’t want to eat them either. It’s cruel.”

Wynonna took both her hands. “No one will force you to eat anything while I’m around. You hear. Now, shall we go see if Ellie would like a story read to her.”

Waverly hugged her sister, her protector, taking her hand once more as they climbed the stairs to the nursery in search of a more genteel activity. Nicole stomped through the woods, kicking away obstructions, bashing her sword against innocent trees, still smarting at having been out-played, determined to get revenge. She could hear her brothers at the pond as she drew near, the small expanse of water used as their private swimming pool, an old plank of wood their makeshift diving platform, or pirate punishment, depending on who was using it. 

If it was her eldest brother, the plank was exclusively for him to practise his entry into the water. Her other brothers were more willing to indulge Nicole’s childish fantasies of adventures on the high seas, each taking turns to be sent to a watery grave. The more dramatic a departure from one world to another the louder the laughter and claps earned. Performance was very much part of their play world along with bravado, showing who was bravest, Nicole occasionally returning to the house with a bloody nose, or cut lip after heated arguments about who should be sent to Davy Jones’ locker next.

She didn’t care being called a boy. That was not where the sting lay in Wynonna’s words. The sting lay in the fact she knew, as her mother knew and as Wynonna clearly knew, no matter how much she acted like a boy, she would never be one, never be treated the same way a boy would be treated in society. She knew full well her path to adulthood would soon diverge from that of her brothers. All the freedoms she enjoyed as a child, running naked through woods on the estate, fighting invisible enemies with her less-than trustworthy sword, would shortly be coming to an end.

The gong for lunch sounded. Loud enough for those in the house to hear, the Haught children usually left to their own devices until one or more became too tired, or too hungry to continue their games. Nicole’s stomach was rumbling, having missed breakfast, deciding she would return to the house to see if the kitchen staff might prepare something to take back to the woods.

She spotted Wynonna and Waverly descending the main staircase as she slipped into the house, unaware of her presence, heading to the dining room where they would eat with the adults. Nicole followed, messy hair and muddy clothes not the attire her mother accepted at the dining table. As soon as she entered the room her mother rose abruptly from the table, dragging her outside, reprimanding her for having appeared before guests looking less than respectable, demanding she go wash her hands and face and put on a dress before returning. 

Nicole sensed her mother was not in the mood to be argued with. She returned five minutes later, her hair partly brushed, a dress hastily placed over her outdoor clothes, most of the buttons still undone at the back, face and hands briefly shown water. She sat as far away from her mother as she could, avoiding her stern gaze, as she waited for the first course to be served, too hungry to care what it was. Waverly’s eyes were also on her, sitting diagonally opposite, taking the occasional mouthful of soup, watching as Nicole devoured the food before her, dipping her bread in several times to the horror of her mother, who would, if no guests were present, have banished her to her room for such bad manners. 

Staff entered with the next course, a buffet of meats and salad, placing silver trays on the serving tables at the side of the room. Nicole’s mother rose, inviting Waverly’s mother to join her, the pair chatting as they chose from the selection before them. Nicole watched as Waverly’s turn approached, jumping up from her seat to make sure she was next in line. 

“I’ve a juicy fat worm in my pocket,” she whispered, as she stood behind Waverly.

Waverly turned slightly, catching the grin on Nicole’s face. “And, I have Wynonna. So there.”

“Wynonna can’t protect you from the Red pirate.”

Waverly felt a rush of excitement through her body. The confidence, the arrogance of this girl was so different to anything experienced with her sisters. _This girl scares me,_ she thought, _but, is so much fun._ She helped herself to the salad, deciding not to take any meat, returning to her seat. It was the movement of a lettuce leaf on her plate that drew her eyes, Nicole once more making her scream. The commotion that followed got Nicole sent to her bedroom without finishing her lunch, protesting Waverly wanted to try eating a worm, her mother giving her the sternest of looks as their nanny dragged her out of the room.

“I never said I would eat a worm,” Waverly said, as her plate was removed. “Red told me if I kissed one it would turn into a prince.”

There were audible groans from her sisters. Waverly had a lot to learn. Nicole’s mother could not apologise enough, offering a double helping of trifle, Waverly becoming overwhelmed by the attention she was receiving from the adults. She worried about her new friend, believing it to be her actions that had landed her pirate in trouble. _If only I had kept quiet,_ she thought, _Red would not have been sent away._

She was halfway through her trifle when she burst into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicole's house 'Wattlestone' is based on a grand house called Waddesdon Manor in Buckinghamshire, once owned by the Rothschild's, who bequeathed it to the National Trust. It's strange visiting such homes, recognising there were those in society who lived and loved in such places. So many grand houses were built in Buckinghamshire by different members of the Rothschild family the county was nicknamed Rothschildshire..! Only Waddesdon remains standing today.
> 
> The rhyme Willa and Wynonna refer to is a popular nursery rhyme told to children: Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine lady upon a white horse. Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, and she shall have music wherever she goes.
> 
> A cock horse is a high-spirited horse, and the fine lady has been associated with Queen Elizabeth I, although Lady Godiva and Celia Fiennes have also been linked to this rhyme. 
> 
> Lady Godiva, Countess of Mercia (11th Century) is mainly remembered for a legend dating back to the 13th Century, in which she supposedly rode naked, covered only by her long hair, through the streets of Coventry. Celia Fiennes (1662–1741) was an English traveller and writer. Like Queen Elizabeth I, Celia never married, choosing instead to explore England on horseback at a time when travel for its own sake was unusual. Travel by a woman even more so.


	3. the Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly learns about swords...

Wynonna took Waverly for a walk in the gardens, understanding her enough to know all the fuss being made was too much. They strolled hand in hand, Wynonna explaining a kiss could not magically turn any creature into a prince. 

“Why would Red say that if it isn’t true?” she asked.

“Because,” Wynonna replied, “she thinks it’s amusing to tease someone younger, knowing they will believe her.”

“Oh,” Waverly said, crestfallen her hero had told her something not true. “I’m sorry I lied this morning. I won’t do it again.”

“Oh petal, we guessed you wanted to play with your pirate friend. You need to be careful that’s all. Some people will lead you into trouble simply for their own amusement.”

“I’m not in trouble am I?”

“No. You’re not in trouble. That girl did something horrid, without a care if it would upset you. That is not how a nice person behaves.”

“Do you think the worm will be alright?” Waverly asked.

Wynonna took both her hands. “Yes, the worm will be perfectly fine. It’s probably feasting on your lettuce leaf as we speak.”

“I’m glad. I don’t want it to be hungry. Poor worm.”

“Poor worm,” Wynonna repeated, releasing their hands, pulling her sister into a warm embrace. “Let’s go look at the fishes in the ornamental pond, shall we.”

Nicole was not seen for the rest of the day, her mother refusing to let her out, instructing their nanny to bring supper to her bedroom. Waverly was quiet during the evening meal, Wynonna sitting next to her, wary of the Haught boys in case they too had similar intentions of upsetting her. The eldest brother approached after the meal to offer his own apologies for his sister’s behaviour. Waverly smiled politely, gripping Wynonna’s hand, wishing she could see her pirate, wondering if she would ever be let out of her bedroom. Wynonna was there to reassure her once more, explaining they would probably see Nicole the next day, their final day at the house, Waverly not wanting to leave without saying goodbye.

She had a restless night, tossing and turning, dreaming of being chased by a frog without legs, then being made to eat worm soup, Nicole standing over her, sword raised high. Wynonna was the first to notice how pale Waverly looked as she entered the breakfast room with the nanny. “Are you feeling unwell?” she asked, as Waverly sat beside her.

“I want to see Red,” was all she could say before bursting into tears. 

She didn’t have to wait too long. The door opened, the nanny returning with Nicole, head down clearly having been reprimanded severely for her prank. She stood at the head of the table, meeting Waverly’s gaze briefly, her eyes red. “I’m sorry for my behaviour yesterday. It was impolite of me. It will not happen again.”

Waverly desperately wanted to hug her pirate, recognising she too had been crying. Instead, she sat quietly holding Wynonna’s hand, too afraid to move. Willa suggested Nicole join them for breakfast and afterwards go for a walk. Nicole approached the table, sitting next to Waverly, neither looking at each other, taking one slice of toast from the silver rack before her.

“I’m sorry,” Waverly whispered, watching Nicole stuff the bread into her mouth without butter. “I didn’t mean to scream.”

Nicole turned her head slightly, cheeks bulging. She swallowed several times before speaking, a few crumbs remaining on her lips. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Worms do not turn into princes. Wynonna told me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Nicole replied. “But, caterpillars turn into butterflies.”

“Do they? Do they really?”

Nicole nodded, grabbing another slice of toast. “Really. They go to sleep, and when they wake up they have wings.”

Waverly listened to her new friend, mouth open in wonder at being told something so incredible. It took Willa to bring her back down to earth, reminding her it was impolite to stare. Breakfast over, the four strolled through the grounds, Nicole leading the way to the gardens, then into the woods towards the pond. Two of Nicole’s brothers were already in the water, yelling, taking it in turns to jump on each other’s backs. When they saw Nicole they called for her to join them, Nicole turning to her guests asking if they wanted to bathe. 

Willa declined the invitation on everyone’s behalf, given they couldn’t swim, nor had bathing suits. Nicole shrugged, kicking off her shoes in the direction of a large tree, removing her socks, throwing them on a fallen timber nearby. She started to unbutton her dress when she saw all three sisters looking at her open-mouthed. One of her brothers emerged from the pond, completely naked, calling to her to hurry up. As he approached Waverly spotted his anatomy, her finger pointing at the thing between his legs. “W…w…worm. He has a wiggly worm.”

Wynonna put her hands over Waverly’s eyes, her own continuing to stare at the naked boy a few feet away. 

“Red, are you coming, or what?” her brother asked.

“Coming. Give me a moment.”

Flinging off her dress and her undergarments she stood naked, grinning. A few moments later she was in the water, splashing and yelling with her brothers, Wynonna finally removing her hands from Waverly’s eyes. Willa ordered they return to the house immediately, rather than stand gawping, knowing she would need to explain to Waverly the difference between girls and boys was more than simply the ability to use a sword. The last view Waverly had was of her pirate friend playing happily in the water, wishing she could join her, wishing she could remove all her clothes, run naked in the woods and be chased, and chased, and chased. 

It would be a year before they saw each other again. They were to holiday with the Haughts in Cornwall, Wynonna and Waverly to accompany their mother, Willa holidaying separately with their aunt in Norfolk, their father remaining in London. Both families would reside in a large house rented for the entire month of August, the Earps staying the last two weeks. Only Nicole and her youngest brother would be at the house, her three older brothers shipped off to Scotland with their father to visit his sister.

Waverly was beside herself with excitement at the prospect of seeing Red again, her mother purchasing bathing suits for planned outings to the seaside. It would be her first time seeing the sea, let alone bathing, both she was looking forward to enormously. The train journey was pleasant enough. Cook packed sandwiches, biscuits and a flask of sweet tea. Waverly gnawed on an apple, gazing out at the passing countryside, asking her mother repeatedly if they were nearly there. As the train neared their station she felt her heart beating faster, knowing she would soon be with Red. 

A porter removed their luggage from the train, Waverly’s mother looking for any sign of a carriage. And there, through an open gate to the right of the station building a girl with flame-red hair came running towards them, scooping Waverly up, twirling her round. “Hello Wiggle, did you miss me?”

Waverly threw her arms round Nicole’s neck, burying her head in her shoulder, the happiest she had ever been in her life. “I did. I did. I have a bathing suit.”

“How wonderful. So do I. Come, the carriages are outside.”

“Hello Red,” Wynonna said, as Nicole placed Waverly on the ground. “No need to lift me.”

“I can if you want. I’m quite strong.”

Wynonna glared at her, picking up her suitcase, marching off in the direction of the gate. Nicole picked up Waverly’s small case, taking her hand, smiling down at her companion. It was the second moment in Waverly’s life that would stay with her forever. Her Red, her pirate, her friend was with her once more, holding her hand, leading her towards new adventures. 

The carriages turned into a long driveway leading to the house, Waverly too busy hanging on Nicole’s every word as she informed her mother about the area. Wynonna half-listened, not wanting to give the impression she was interested in anything Nicole was saying, although she was just as enthralled by her as Waverly. Something had changed, a new maturity, Nicole’s confidence still on display now with a greater presence. She shone, a cheeky charm about her that would cause so many to fall in love with her, only to have their hearts dashed against the rocks. Whether she knew she had this magnetism, this hold over others, she didn’t appear to care. Her arrogance had disappeared.

Nicole showed the girls to their room, opposite hers on the top floor, with views out over the countryside. “If you use my telescope, you can see the sea,” she said, sitting on one of the beds.

“What’s a telescope?” Waverly asked, looking at Wynonna.

“Wait, let me get it and I’ll show you.” She returned with a long brass tube in her hand, opening the window, placing one end to her eye. “Here, come see the sea.”

Waverly giggled, remembering Nicole’s use of words. She took the telescope from Nicole holding it to her eye, seeing the sea for the first time. “Wyn, look. I can see the sea. I can see the sea.”

“Let me see,” Wynonna said, waiting for Waverly to hand her the instrument. “It’s close.”

Nicole laughed. “No, it’s a long way off. Too far to walk. We will take the carriages and go. Tomorrow perhaps if mother agrees.”

That night Waverly dreamt of her pirate, now with a telescope, showing her distant lands and seas. She woke the next morning, eager to experience the sea for the first time, her mother giving her a look as she repeatedly asked when they were going. Nicole’s mother, ever the diplomat, suggested they might pack a picnic and take the carriages to Tintagel to see the remains of King Arthur’s castle. Waverly had no idea who King Arthur was, but it all sounded exciting, looking over at Nicole who was busily stuffing dry toast into her mouth. At least some things hadn’t changed about her pirate.

She too stopped buttering her toast, not entirely liking the bland taste of bread, wanting to be as much like her pirate as she could. _I will ask for a telescope for my next birthday,_ she thought, little knowing the one Nicole had was, firstly not hers but her brother’s, secondly not something given to a girl as a present. Ellie had travelled with her, no longer loved as much as she once was. 

The party settled themselves on a small beach within walking distance of the castle, four servants on hand to tend to their needs. The girls took it in turns to change in the wooden wagon reserved for them, Waverly feeling self-conscious as she emerged, wondering why they needed costumes to go into the sea. Nicole’s brother simply used a towel wrapped round his waist discarding most of his clothing, running off to be the first to enter the waves. Wynonna was too hot and bothered after changing, sitting with their mothers, sipping ice cold lemon water. 

Nicole suggested she and Waverly go exploring, her mother warning her to keep an eye on the tide and not go too far. Nicole nodded, taking Waverly’s hand, leading them towards the rocky outcrop beneath the castle. They scrambled over boulders, careful to avoid their jagged edges, Nicole more agile, her long legs reaching footholds too difficult for Waverly. Several times she stopped, returning to help Waverly up, nearing a place she hoped Waverly would find as exciting as she did.

They came to a small beach, deserted, due to the difficulty in access. Nicole waited for Waverly to join her on the sand, walking the short distance to a large hole in the rocks. “This is Merlin’s cave,” she said, her voice echoing into the darkness. “King Arthur’s wizard.”

“Oh,” Waverly replied. “It’s very dark inside.”

“It’s not really a cave,” Nicole corrected. “More a long tunnel. We can walk through if you like.”

“I’m not sure. Is it safe?” 

“Perfectly. Hold my hand and watch your step, it’s slippery.”

Waverly really wasn’t sure this was a good idea, looking behind her wanting Wynonna to appear. The roar of the sea could be heard entering the tunnel from the other side, a noise that could be said to resemble the sound of a dragon, if such creatures existed. She held onto Nicole’s hand tightly, wanting to close her eyes, knowing she needed to keep them open to see where she was stepping.

The air around her cooled as she entered, feeling the pull of Nicole’s hand, trying to keep up. “We need to wait for the wave,” Nicole said as they reached the halfway point. “Then we run to the other side. Ready. One, two, three.”

“Wait,” Waverly yelled. “I’m scared.”

Nicole turned. “I’m here. Red the pirate will protect you. We must hurry, or we’ll catch the tide. One, two, three. Go.”

Waverly felt the tug on her hand, Nicole dragging her towards the other entrance. Too late, a wave swept in pushing them back. Then another. And another. And another. “We’re not going to make it through this time,” Nicole said. “The water’s coming in too fast. We’ll go back and try again another day.”

As they made their way back towards the entrance the water had risen blocking their exit. Waverly gripped Nicole’s hand trembling as the water rose to her waist. Nicole frantically looked around for a higher position. “There. We need to get up there,” she said, pointing to a ledge above their heads. “I’ll lift you up.”

“Red, I’m scared. I don’t like this.”

“You are safe. I’m here. Now, quickly, let me help you up.”

She hoisted Waverly up onto her shoulders, pushing her as high as she could, shouting at her to climb. Another wave rushed in, knocking Nicole off balance, she barely holding her position as the water pulled at her, wanting to drag her away. “Waverly, climb. I’m right behind you.”

“Red, I want to go home.”

“Soon. Soon. We need to wait for the tide to turn. Keep climbing.”

Another wave hit Nicole’s body with full force sending her sideways, Waverly managing to scramble to the ledge. She screamed as she saw Nicole fight against the current, grabbing hold of the rock face as the water sucked her out. She managed to hoist her body onto a small ledge, waiting for the water to drop, wading over to where Waverly was perched, climbing as fast as she could before another wave swept in. She reached the ledge moments before a huge wave roared through the tunnel, the pair clinging to each other shivering. “The tide will turn,” Nicole reassured. “We just need to wait for the tide to turn. It won’t be long. Be brave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up until the 1850s, men usually bathed, or swam in the sea naked. But, as the seaside became popular more people shared the beach, many of them women and children. Victorian values dictated proper etiquette was followed. An unmarried woman had to be chaperoned by a married lady (family member or friend) when strolling to ensure social boundaries between the sexes were not crossed and to ward off unwanted or unsavoury advances. 
> 
> Regulation also required women wear sufficient clothing to prevent exposure of the body. This swimwear could be extremely heavy, sometimes weights were sown in to stop dresses floating up. In choppy waters, these outfits could drown a wearer. 
> 
> These coveralls served another purpose. They stopped women getting a suntan. Until the 1920s, having a tan was considered vulgar and only for workers in the fields. On the beach, parasols would be used to shade people from the sun. 
> 
> Bathing machines, resembling a beach hut with four wheels, were used to roll women out to sea, usually pulled by horses. The bather would exit the cart using the door facing away from prying eyes on the beach and proceed to paddle. For inexperienced swimmers (most Victorian women) beaches offered the service of a ‘dipper’, a strong woman who would escort the bather out to sea in the cart and lift them into the water and yank them out when they were done. 
> 
> Bathing machines provided a modicum of freedom to Victorian women, allowing them the privacy to experience sea bathing first-hand rather than be excluded altogether as they had been from so many other leisure activities and sports. Men did not need to use a cart, simply strolling into the water wearing a considerably tighter swimsuit.


	4. the Peril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is found, what is lost...

Wynonna was the first to grow concerned by their absence. She and Nicole’s brother were tasked with walking in the direction Nicole and Waverly were seen heading, in the hope the pair had become distracted while playing and simply lost track of time. Visitors to the beach were already packing up, heading to their lodgings or homes, as Wynonna marched behind Edward. “I don’t see them,” she said, her eyes scanning the emptying horizon.

“They're probably by the rocks,” Edward replied. “We always go there when we’re here. Probably hiding.”

“I hope so. Waverly will be getting tired I imagine. How far?”

“Not far. There, those rocks ahead. Come on, I’ll race you.”

Wynonna was in no mood to race a boy across a beach, but her concern for Waverly was growing with every footstep forward. Reaching the rocks, panting, she had difficulty climbing in bare feet, Edward helping her find footholds. There was no sign of them, Edward standing with hands on hips, looking in all directions. “There really isn’t anywhere they could go,” he said, suddenly stopping, looking towards the cliff beneath the castle. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Wynonna asked.

“No. She wouldn’t. It’s far too dangerous. But…”

“Edward, what? Do you know where they are?”

Edward pointed to Merlin’s cave, the waves crashing against its mouth sending angry white spray into the air. He began clambering down boulders in a frantic effort to get to the opening, Wynonna following as best she could not fully understanding the situation. There was no way to reach the entrance, the water too high and too far in to be safe to wade out, or in Edward’s case swim out. All they could do was shout from the shoreline in the hope of being heard.

It was no use. Their voices were drowned out by the roar of the sea as it swept in and out of where Nicole and Waverly were trapped. “Don’t be afraid,” Nicole repeated, over and over, hugging Waverly to her, the pair shaking as their wet costumes sucked the heat from their bodies. “It won’t be long. See, the water is dropping. I promise, it won’t be long.”

Waverly clung to Nicole for dear life, afraid if she let go her pirate, or she, would be swept out to sea never to be seen again. She was terrified, to the core of her being, so traumatised she no longer could process what was happening. All she knew was Red, her Red, her pirate was there to protect her, keep her from being taken by the monster, the dragon whose roar was deafening. 

“I’m not scared,” she said, her grip tightening around Nicole’s neck as another powerful wave swept past. “I have you.”

“Oh Wiggle, it’s perfectly alright to be scared. I’m scared, but I’ll keep you safe. It won’t be long. It won’t be long. Shall I tell you a story while we wait?”

Another powerful wave surged past, Waverly squeezing Nicole’s neck tighter. “I want to go home Red. Please, can we go home?”

“Of course we can. But, first I must tell you the story of the pirate and the porcelain doll. Would you like that?”

Waverly nodded, her mind in need of distraction from the peril they faced. Nicole spun a tale so fantastic Waverly found herself forgetting where she was as her Red, her pirate told her of a sad and lonely porcelain doll who wanted friendship, found one day by a kind pirate with only one eye who took the doll with her on voyages across the sea, showing the doll many splendid things in the world. And, how they fought a noisy dragon who thought he could scare them with his roar, the pirate telling the dragon to be quiet as he was scaring her beloved porcelain doll.

Wynonna knew their efforts were in vain, watching the water enter and leave the place where Edward suspected their sisters might be. “I’m going to get help,” she shouted. “We can’t do this on our own.”

“I’ll go, I’m faster,” Edward offered, already scrambling over the rocks. “Don’t go near the water. Stay high on the rocks till I return.”

Wynonna nodded, having no intention of going anywhere near the sea, wanting desperately to reach her sister, not knowing if she was trapped inside. She continued to call her name, over and over and over, her voice growing hoarse in the attempt, not caring, as long as Waverly might hear her. Edward returned with a group of men, two of which Wynonna recognised as servants. 

“Are you sure they are in there?” one man asked, as he approached. “It’s not yet high tide. If they’re in there...”

“I believe they are in there,” Edward explained. “We go inside when we visit. My sister knows it well.”

“I see,” the man replied. “It may be too late.”

At those words Wynonna began to sob, not caring who saw her, the fate of her sister now in the hands of these men who could not guarantee her survival. “Please,” she begged. “Please save my sister, she’s only eight.”

A man patted her on the shoulder. “We will do our best. Our very best.”

A rope had been found from somewhere, one man in a bathing suit tying it round his waist, the other men taking up the slack. He moved off into the water, edging his way along the jagged rock face towards the entrance, each wave pushing him back a little, or into the dark grey wall he used to guide his path. Reaching the opening, he disappeared, the rope remaining taut, slipping through the hands of the men keeping him tethered to land. Minutes passed, no sign of him, Wynonna’s eyes fixed on the hole, praying her baby sister was in there, praying she was still alive. 

The men talked amongst themselves, breaking off occasionally if they felt a tug on the rope. Suddenly, the group hushed, a strong tug felt, two tugs. The man had found them.

He emerged several minutes later, Waverly clinging to his back, the pair moving with the current towards the shore. Wynonna rushed forward, Edward grabbing her arm fearing she was about to enter the water. She fought against his hold, screaming at him to let her go. As Waverly reached dry land she was lifted from the man’s back and handed to another who cradled her in his arms. Wynonna could hear her pleas, begging to go back for Red. Her rescuer stood panting, explaining to the group the other child was injured, unable to hold on. Wynonna heard him, fearing Nicole had been swept away, looking at Edward whose face had lost all colour. 

Too tired to make another attempt, the man agreed to wait an hour for the tide to turn. Waverly was hysterical, fighting to get free of those who had hold of her, Wynonna trying her best to comfort her sister. “They’ll get her out. They’ll get her out,” she repeated, not knowing if that was true. 

“I want Red,” she screamed, too traumatised to listen to anyone, let alone her sister. “I want Red.”

Edward had gone in search of their mothers to inform them of Waverly’s rescue. They waited on the beach, desperate for news on Nicole, hoping like everyone who had come to help she too would be rescued. Given the state of Waverly, the men decided she should be taken to her mother, her continued screams and pleas echoing across a now deserted landscape as two men carried her away. 

Wynonna wanted to go with her, but knew if she left Nicole alone to her fate she would never forgive herself. Nor would Waverly. She stood next to Edward, both feeling duty-bound to stay. An hour passed, then two, then three, the day fading, the men deciding they needed to make an attempt at rescue before they ran out of time and light. Wynonna watched as the man in the bathing suit returned to the water, his progress faster now the tide was in his favour. He reached the entrance, disappearing inside, those on dry land holding the rope tight. 

Two tugs on the rope told them he had reached her. It felt like an eternity as Wynonna waited for the rope to be pulled back, Edward having joined the row of men. As the man appeared, a cheer went up seeing Nicole slung over his back, one arm dangling useless. He struggled to keep her with him, several times adjusting her position to make sure she didn’t slip.

As they reached the beach, two men lifted Nicole from his back, carrying her further inland, laying her on dry sand. She didn’t move, her eyes closed, her body limp. Wynonna could do nothing but watch, wishing she had gone with them, wishing they hadn’t entered the cave, wishing she wasn’t standing looking down at Nicole. 

Another man approached, fully clothed, kneeling beside Nicole, checking for any sign of life. He nodded, someone offering him a blanket, Wynonna turned away, believing she was staring at death. When she glanced back Nicole was sitting up, the blanket being placed round her shoulders, her good arm holding her bad.

Wynonna had never been more pleased to see anyone alive in her entire life. If she could have hugged her she would, their eyes meeting momentarily as a burly man lifted Nicole up, setting off in the direction of their mothers. 

Cold and exhaustion had taken their toll on both girls. Waverly was asleep in her mother’s arms when Nicole was brought to her. More tears, even from both mothers, not prone to display too much emotion. They returned to the house, the girls sent to bed to rest, the doctor called to the house, he advising plenty of rest and warm drinks. 

Nicole’s wrist was badly sprained in her efforts to stay with Waverly, not broken thankfully, some consolation from the day’s events. Wynonna stayed with her sister as she lay sleeping in their room, her eyes becoming heavy as she stroked her hair. She woke with a start at the sound of Waverly crying, calling out for Nicole, bringing tears to her own eyes. “There, my petal, it’s alright,” she soothed. “Nicole is safe, she’s sleeping as you must. Go back to sleep.”

Waverly sat up, terror in her eyes. “I want Red,” she demanded. “I want Red.”

“Shush, Waverly, you’ll wake everyone. Here, climb in with me.”

“No. I want Red,” Waverly insisted. “I have to save her.”

“She’s safe. I promise. Lay down, I’ll sing to you.”

“She’s not. You’re lying,” Waverly insisted, becoming hysterical. “I want Red.”

“If I show you Red, will you go to sleep?”

Waverly nodded, tears running down her face. “I want Red.”

“Come. But, we must be quiet. No shouting. Promise.”

Waverly nodded again, holding out her hand. They crossed the landing, opening the door to Nicole’s bedroom, stepping inside. As soon as Waverly saw Nicole she rushed to her bed, standing, looking down at her fast asleep. “See,” Wynonna said. “She’s safe. She has a bad wrist, but she’s alive. Come, let her sleep.”

“Can I stay?” Waverly pleaded. “Someone might take her.”

“Waverly, you promised. Come, before someone hears.”

“You can stay if you like,” Nicole said, half-asleep. “Just mind my arm.”

Waverly pulled back the covers, laying down beside Nicole, gently placing a hand on her arm. “I’ll keep you safe,” she said. “The dragon can’t have you.”

Wynonna felt the bitter sting of rejection witnessing her sister’s affection shift from her to Nicole. It would take her years to understand this moment. She left them together sleeping, returning to her own room, the sight of Waverly’s empty bed worse than she ever could imagine. She had lost her sister that day, Ellie sitting equally abandoned at the foot of the bed, glass eyes glistening in the moonlight, as if she too was crying for the girl who once loved her.

Morning came. Wynonna checked on the girls to find them huddled together wrapped in each other’s arms. She entered the dining room where Edward was already tucking into sausages and bacon, the events of the previous day clearly not having affected his appetite. “Just wait till father hears about this,” he said, stabbing his fork into a plump sausage. “He’ll definitely send her away now.”

“Send her away where?” she asked, taking a slice of toast she had no intention of eating.

“Abroad. Father says she needs a proper education.”

“But, I thought you had a governess, like us.”

“A proper education,” Edward continued. “To be a lady.”

“Oh, I see. Where?”

“Geneva I believe. Or, Paris. Maybe both.”

“When?”

“Soon. Perhaps sooner after yesterday. Papa will be furious. Glad it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week if I ever did that. And, dragging Waverly along. Boy, oh boy, will he be mad. Can’t wait to see his face.”

“Is your father very strict?” Wynonna asked, the toast remaining untouched on her plate.

Edward stuffed half a sausage in his mouth, taking his time to chew it, as if chewing the idea of his father’s temper. “With us, always. With Red, never. She can get away with anything, unless mother steps in. But, this. Boy oh boy, is she in trouble. Big trouble. Big, big trouble.” He laughed, relishing the idea Nicole had done something so terrible even their father would have no other option but to send his daughter away. 

Wynonna knew if she mentioned this to Waverly it would most likely send her into another fit of hysterics. She made her excuses, leaving Edward to his feast, heading to Nicole’s room. Knocking she waited, hearing Waverly giggling inside. “May I come in?” she asked, expecting the answer to be no.

“You may,” Nicole replied. 

Wynonna entered, the pair still in bed, Waverly looking happier despite the trauma of their near drowning. She sat at the foot of the bed, Nicole moving her legs to accommodate her, eyeing a tray on a table with the girls' breakfasts. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she began. “I thought…I saw. Why did you go in?”

Nicole shrugged. “I thought we could make it through. Guess not.”

The arrogance had returned. “Guessed not,” Wynonna repeated, her voice growing louder with each word uttered. “You dragged my baby sister into a cave knowing it was dangerous. And, you nearly…you nearly…you put her life in danger.”

“She was with Red. I kept her safe.”

“Safe! Safe. You call what you did safe. And, stop with this pirate Red silliness. You’re not a pirate. You never will be a pirate. And, when your father finds out.”

“Really,” Nicole replied, a smirk on her face. “That he’ll send me away. Perhaps I want to go. Perhaps I’ll return a pirate. Isn’t that right Wiggle?”

Waverly was crying once more at the thought of losing her beloved pirate.


	5. the Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Nicole be able to stay out of trouble...

Wynonna did her best to console Waverly, knowing whatever she thought of Nicole, however angry she was at her for having put her sister’s life at risk, she had no intention of upsetting Waverly. She suggested they go find Ellie, whom she said was missing her, Nicole agreeing the porcelain doll probably felt lonely and in need of a cuddle. Waverly went with Wynonna reluctantly, returning almost immediately with Ellie in her arms, sitting on Nicole’s bed refusing to move. 

Wynonna motioned with her head she needed to speak with Nicole privately, sensing the task of getting her alone would be near impossible given how clingy Waverly had become. Nicole sensed this too, telling Waverly she needed to use the bathroom and would be back shortly, Waverly looking anxiously as Nicole headed towards the door, Wynonna close behind. 

As soon as she was out of the room, Wynonna dragged Nicole downstairs, hoping they were far enough away to talk without being overheard. “Look, Waverly nearly died because of you. And, you act like it’s no big thing. When Willa finds out.”

“I understand. I’m sorry. I know what I did. I know we so very nearly…I can’t change what happened, but I promise I’ll never do anything like that ever again.”

“You had better not. And, don’t mention anything about being sent abroad. She’s too young to understand. She thinks you’re going away forever. She’s only seven.”

“Is this what it’s like having a little sister?” Nicole asked. “It’s rather charming having someone who looks up to you. I’ve never had that.”

Wynonna nodded. “That’s why you have to be extra careful. She really does think you’re a pirate. Everything you say to her is real.”

“I know that now. I’ll look after her. I promise.”

“We both look after her,” Wynonna replied, holding out her hand by way of a peace offering, Nicole shaking it. “Deal.”

“Deal.”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs alerted them to Waverly’s presence, doll in her arms, wondering where they had got to. Nicole took her hand, leading her back to the bedroom, Wynonna deciding it was safe enough leaving them to play dolls, heading off downstairs to read.

The doctor arrived mid-morning to check on Nicole, Waverly’s eyes were fixed on him as he removed the bandage from Nicole’s wrist, making tiny movements to check mobility, nodding as Nicole winced in pain with every rotation. “Good, good,” he said, turning to Nicole’s mother who too was watching what he was doing. “Bad sprain, as I said yesterday. No bones broken. Keep it bound for now. No more adventures until it is mended young girl.”

Nicole waited until the doctor turned his back before sticking out her tongue, earning a stern look from her mother and a nervous laugh from Waverly. The doctor swung his head round to see why Waverly was making a noise, her cheeks flushing as his less-than friendly eyes met hers. Nicole’s mother thanked the doctor, following him out of the bedroom, their shoes thudding on the wooden stairs as they descended.

“Can I bandage your arm?” Waverly asked once they were alone. 

“Perhaps tomorrow. It hurts too much. That doctor made it worse with all his prodding and twisting. It was mending until he did what he did.”

“Is it very painful?” 

“Won’t stop me climbing. I bet I can climb faster and higher with one arm. You wait.”

“Red, you mustn’t. What if you fall? You might hurt your other arm. Or, your leg. Or, head.”

“Not much good as a pirate if I can’t climb. Don’t worry Wiggle, if I land on my head I’ll wind up dead, and that’ll be the end of Red. Dead Red. Red dead. Which sounds better?”

Waverly lowered her eyes to her hands, clasped together on her lap as if praying. “Please don’t say that. I don’t like it. It scares me.”

“Oh no. Oh Wiggle, I’m so sorry. I promise to never scare you again. Never, never, never.”

“Really? You really promise.”

“Cross my heart and hope to…” Nicole stopped herself, realising the next word she was about to utter would probably undo any promise just made to Waverly. “And hope to tickle Wiggle.”

Waverly squealed, hopping off the bed, Nicole chasing her from the other side, managing to catch her as she reached the door. She proceeded to tickle her with one good hand, Waverly allowing her to do so, enjoying the attention. The sound of Nicole’s mother on the other side of the door brought their activity to an abrupt halt, the pair falling silent, moving back to allow her to enter. She smiled at Waverly, suggesting she might go find Wynonna in the garden, waiting for her to leave the room. As much as she didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to disobey an adult. Nicole reassured her she would be out shortly, watching as Waverly closed the door behind her.

Nicole had been waiting for this conversation all morning, knowing full well her mother would have little choice but to inform her father of the events of the previous day. She sat on the wooden seat under the window, pointing to the bed for Nicole to be seated, her eyes softening a little as she prepared to speak. “What you did…what occurred yesterday was…” she paused, Nicole noticing her eyes beginning to water. “I nearly lost you. My only daughter, through actions…”

Nicole rarely had seen her mother so emotional, only once before as far as she could recall. “Oh Mama, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, truly for what I did. I’ll never to it again.”

“Poor Waverly’s mother is distraught. To think both of you could have been lost to us.”

Nicole felt her own eyes watering seeing her mother’s anguish, understanding the distress she must have caused Waverly’s mother. “It was foolish of me. I did not think of the consequences. I know we could so easily have been swept out to sea. I nearly was. I only just managed to hold on as a wave…”

Nicole’s mother raised her hand to stop any further ghastly revelations. “I will need to inform your father. I am in two minds whether to send you immediately to Wattlestone. At least it is dry there.”

“We have the pond,” Nicole corrected, immediately realising she hadn't helped matters or her own cause. “Please don’t send me away. Waverly will be heartbroken if I go. I promise never to go near Merlin’s cave ever again. Please, please, ple…”

“I agree,” her mother interrupted. “That poor girl has been through quite enough already. I will take your word that you will remain out of trouble for the rest of this holiday. But, if I catch you doing anything you will be sent home without discussion. Do you understand me Nicole?”

Nicole leapt off the bed, hugging her mother with her one good arm. “I understand. Does that include climbing trees?”

Nicole’s mother let out an exasperated sigh. “What am I to do with you, sweet pea? Yes, trees are most assuredly not to be climbed. I suggest you find the girls and perhaps play tea parties with the dolls.”

Nicole groaned at the thought of having to play with silly dolls. “Can Waverly come live with us? Just for a short while.”

Nicole’s mother brushed a few wayward strands of hair off her daughter’s face. “We’ll see. Her mother may not like the idea. Especially after what happened. Perhaps we could arrange for you to pay a visit to their home in London. We’ll see.”

Wynonna was in the garden reading a book, closing it as Waverly strolled towards her with Ellie. She was more in love with her sister than she had ever been, waiting for Waverly to sit beside her before pulling her into an embrace. Waverly felt the love being offered, even though she was cross at her sister for shouting at Nicole. 

They remained locked in each other’s arms for several minutes, neither wanting it to end, neither having anything to say. When Wynonna finally let go, Waverly could see the tear stains on her cheeks. “I was scared,” she said, adjusting the bonnet on Ellie which had tilted. “I kept thinking about you, and mama, and papa, and Willa. Red said I would see you all again. The dragon would not take us away forever.”

“I should have been there,” Wynonna replied, her eyes still watering, her hand holding Waverly’s. “I should have been there. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“Wyn, I don’t like caves. Or the sea.”

“I don’t like caves either now. Or the sea. Where’s Nicole?”

“Her mother is speaking to her. I think she’s in trouble.”

Wynonna nodded. “Big, big trouble.”

“Am I in trouble? Mama keeps crying every time she sees me. I must be in trouble.”

Wynonna pulled her into another embrace. “Oh petal, you’re not in trouble. We’re just so glad you’re here. Mama was worried for you both. But, you’re here. Promise me you won’t go anywhere with Nicole on your own ever again.”

“I promise. Nicole has a bandage on her arm. I’m going to look after her.”

“We will both look after her,” Wynonna replied. “I’m not letting that girl out of my sight. Or you, my petal.”

Nicole was already seated at the dining table next to Edward when the girls entered. Their mothers were deep in discussion, Waverly’s mother stopping on seeing Waverly her eyes beginning to water again. Nicole’s mother patted her hand reassuringly, smiling at Waverly, motioning for her to approach. “My dear, I have discussed with your mother the possibility of Nicole coming to visit you. Would you like that?”

Waverly’s face lit up. “Yes. She can sleep with me in my bed.”

Nicole caught the curious glance her mother gave Waverly’s mother at the suggestion of bed sharing, not entirely sure what it meant, assuming it was her mother's way of saying she hoped she would have her own bed. “I will need to speak to Nicole’s father. I am glad you are rested after yesterday. It was a shock to us all.”

“Red saved me from the noisy dragon,” she replied a little too proudly, sending her mother sobbing from the room. She looked over at Wynonna who was shaking her head. “Well, she did.”

“My dear, your mother is very upset as I am at the thought we may have lost our precious daughters. May I suggest you do not mention dragons again to your mother? Her nerves are a little fragile.”

They sat and ate, mostly in silence, apart from Edward who continued to make small talk in between mouthfuls, or while helping Nicole cut up her food. He seemed equally as concerned about Nicole’s welfare as Wynonna was about Waverly’s. After lunch the girls were instructed to play in the garden within sight of the house, Wynonna and Nicole each taking one of Waverly’s hands, swinging her as they walked in circles close enough to be seen, far enough to give Nicole her sense of freedom. She really didn’t like being cooped up, or spied on by her mother from the drawing room, but knew if she did anything against her mother’s wishes she would be on the next train back to Buckinghamshire. 

Edward marched past, a fishing rod slung over his shoulder asking Nicole to join him. She shook her head, glancing up at the house, her brother shrugging his shoulders as he continued on his way. Waverly tugged at her shirt wanting to be swung again by her two favourite people in the world. _My Red is coming to stay with me,_ she thought, as she was swung. _We will have tea parties and I will brush her hair and mama can ask cook to make jelly for us. The red jelly for Red._ “Red will have red,” she suddenly said out loud, not realising her mouth was moving.

“What will I have Wiggle?” Nicole asked, amused by what her young friend had said.

Waverly’s cheeks flushed at having said a thought out loud. “Jelly. We will have jelly when you come.”

“Oh, I see. Red will have red jelly. I like jelly. Especially red jelly. Red will have red. I like that. Red will have red. Well done.”

Nicole saw the look of adoration, intrigued at how captivated this younger child was of her. She grinned as Wynonna parroted Waverly’s phrase silently over her head, winking back at her, bulging out her cheeks to suggest far too much jelly in her mouth, sending Wynonna into a fit of laughter. 

By evening Waverly was exhausted, tears in her eyes as she tried to eat her meal. Wynonna offered to take her upstairs and read a bedtime story, but was met with pleading eyes for it to be Nicole. Nicole was struggling with her meal again, Edward patiently cutting up as much as he could before Nicole wolfed it down, her mother suggesting she not eat so fast. “I’ll read to you shortly Wiggle,” she said through a mouthful of food, earning a disapproving tut from her mother. 

“Waverly, let Nicole finish her meal,” Wynonna said. “She’ll read to you, but only if you’re in bed. Isn’t that right?”

Nicole nodded, stabbing a large piece of carrot with her fork, attempting to put it all in her mouth at once, earning another tut from her mother. “Only if you’re in bed. You best hurry. I’m a fast eater.”

Wynonna waited with Waverly for Nicole, who arrived with a small plate containing three small pieces of cake, balanced on top of a book. “Stole these from cook.”

“Do you ever do anything that’s not dangerous?” Wynonna asked, taking a slice, offering the plate to Waverly.

“Try not to. More fun doing things adults tell me not to, don’t you think?”

Wynonna was making eyes at her to tell her that wasn’t something she should be saying out loud in front of Waverly. “No. What I meant was I always do the right thing. Always. I’m a very good child. Very good. Too good in fact.”

“But, you stole the cake,” Waverly said, now confused as to whether Nicole was good or bad. 

“No. Yes, that is. Some good children steal cake occasionally,” she replied, Wynonna shaking her head.

“No. What I meant was, only bad children steal cake. Shall I read a story to you now?”

“Please. Or, tell me the story again of the prince and the doll.”

“You mean the pirate,” she corrected. “What if I read you the story of a king who had a round table? It’s one of my favourites.”

“Is there a doll in the story,” Waverly asked, brushing crumbs from the bed.

“Maybe. There’s a beautiful queen who marries the king. Her name was Guinevere.”

Waverly settled down as Nicole opened the book to begin the story. “There once was a brave king called Arthur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The remains of a castle on a rocky outcrop at a place called Tintagel in Cornwall have been linked with the legendary figure of King Arthur. It seemed fitting to have him and his story form part of this story, given how young children tend to believe EVERYTHING they are told. Afterall, Santa...!
> 
> King Arthur is a mythological figure, supposedly head of the kingdom of Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table. It is not known if there was a real Arthur, though it is believed he may have been a Roman-affiliated military leader who successfully staved off a Saxon invasion in Britain during the 5th to 6th centuries.
> 
> Guinevere was the wife of Arthur, best known in Arthurian romance for her love of one of King Arthur's knights, Sir Lancelot.
> 
> The Knights of the Round Table were characters in the legends of King Arthur. They were the best knights in the kingdom, chosen to sit at the table with their king, the significance of the table being round was it offered an equal rank, or position, to all in attendance.


	6. the Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Nicole and Waverly to part...

Nicole was halfway through the first chapter, when Wynonna motioned with her hand to let her know Waverly was fast asleep. They tiptoed out, closing the door, leaving the small candle burning on the dressing table should she wake up. Edward was in the drawing room attempting to teach his mother chess much to his frustration, and hers. “Red, come play with me. Mama is not in the mood for games tonight.”

“Best of three. I get to move first,” she replied, turning to Wynonna. “Do you play? It’s quite fun.”

“We play draughts at home. Is it similar?”

“Almost. But, you will need to learn the rules first.”

Wynonna watched as the first game commenced, unable to understand any of the moves. “Wait. Why did you move that piece there? And, why can’t that piece do it too?”

Nicole explained all the pieces, how each moved, how to take another. “This game appears difficult,” she said, moving a pawn two squares, “but it’s quite simple. And remember, the queen has the most freedom. So, which piece should I move next?”

Wynonna pointed to the queen. “That piece. I think you should move the queen to that square and attack the king.”

“Good. Excellent move,” Edward replied. “That puts me in a very difficult position. You’re good at this already.”

In the midst of learning a new game, Wynonna was also learning about Nicole and how she fitted into a male-centric household. There seemed to be little concern being shown by her brother to be playing with girls, so long as the game interested him. She could imagine his face if he were ever to be asked to play dolls, or tea parties, those activities reserved for girls and girls only. 

She had seen his caring side, cutting up Nicole’s food, running to get help. She had also seen a side that told him he must stand shoulder to shoulder with the men pulling on the rope to save his sister. It never once occurred to her to join those men in their efforts on the beach, her role assigned to waiting helplessly, allowing others to do the strenuous work of pulling the rope to shore. Had the situation been reversed, had she been the one in that cave, she could so easily imagine Nicole not thinking twice about holding onto that rope, pulling with all her might. Like Waverly, she too had never met a girl like Nicole, someone who moved between genders so effortlessly. Not masculine as such, simply able to participate in activities usually reserved for men without giving it a second thought. 

The first game over, Nicole suggested Wynonna play the next game against Edward, Wynonna looking forward to trying out her new-found knowledge of this curious game. A fast learner, Nicole only gave a few suggestions as to possible moves, nodding her head approvingly as Wynonna moved her pieces towards victory. Absorbed in the game, they lost track of time, the clock on the mantelpiece chiming nine, Nicole’s mother suggesting they should retire for the evening given events. Nicole wanted to play one more game against Wynonna, her mother suggesting they should resume the next day, Nicole about to argue her case before realising she needed to be seen to be obeying, at least until the events at Merlin’s cave dimmed in her mother’s memory.

“You know I’ll beat you,” Nicole said as they made their way upstairs.

“Perhaps,” Wynonna replied. “You’ve played more than me. I wonder why papa never taught us to play. He has a chess set in his study.”

Nicole shrugged. “No idea. We should play cards too.”

“Have you ever played with a doll?” Wynonna whispered, as they neared their bedrooms. “I’m guessing not.”

Nicole thought for a moment, trying to remember if she had. “No, I can’t recall. Wait, yes, once. I tied one to a tree and used it as target practise with my bow and arrows.”

Wynonna grinned. “So you, Red. That’s so you, Goodnight. Oh, and I believe I shall win that game tomorrow.”

Waverly woke during the night, once more calling for her Red, insistent she go see her, worried the dragon might have crept in and taken her away. No matter how much Wynonna reasoned with Waverly she would not go back to sleep until checking on her pirate. Once more, on entering Nicole’s room she stood by her bed, staring at her asleep before gently shaking her, Wynonna telling her to stop, to let Nicole rest. Once more, Nicole invited her into her bed, shifting over a little to give her enough space. Once more, Wynonna was helpless when it came to her little sister.

She returned to her own room, determined to speak with Waverly the following day to explain she would need to stay in her own bed on future nights, fearing Waverly would find the separation from Nicole at the end of the holiday too much. Wynonna could hear Nicole reading to Waverly as she knocked early the next morning, entering, sitting on the wooden seat under the window, seeing the wonder in Waverly’s eyes. Her task to separate the two becoming ever more difficult with each page read.

“A big banquet was prepared for the king and his new queen, to celebrate their marriage,” Nicole read. “The king was very happy with his new wife, and she was happy to be with her new husband.”

“What’s a banquet?” Waverly asked. 

“A banquet is a big meal,” Nicole explained. “Like a party, for the king and queen. Because they were married.”

“I will marry you when I’m older,” Waverly announced. “And, we will have a big party at my house, with jelly.”

Wynonna shook her head. “Petal, you can’t marry Nicole.”

“I can,” she insisted. “Isn’t that so Red. We can be married and live in a big house and play dolls.”

“If you say so. Or, we could live in a castle on top of a hill with knights guarding the entrance. How about that?”

“Oh, yes. I would like that.”

“I give up,” Wynonna interrupted, throwing her hands up. “I’m going to breakfast.”

She left the pair to their fantasy world, now with the additional task of having to explain to Waverly the rules of marriage, deliberating whether she should simply leave her believe such a union was possible between her and Nicole, or whether Willa would be better at explaining the matter.

The rest of the holiday passed without any further drama, Wynonna beating Nicole several times at chess much to her delight and Nicole’s frustration. Waverly spent almost all her time by the side of her Red, becoming quite experienced at bandaging her wrist, not that it needed bandaging several times a day, Nicole happy to indulge her so long as she didn’t have to play dolls. Wynonna had seen her visibly shudder on several occasions as Waverly suggested playing with Ellie, managing to find some excuse where they could play something a little more active, a little more to her tastes. 

On the very last day Waverly was tearful, clinging onto Nicole’s good hand for most of the morning, not letting go even for Nicole to eat her dry toast. Instead, she fed her pieces as Edward and Wynonna took turns to roll their eyes. Bags packed, carriages waiting, Nicole hugged Waverly for the last time, handing her the book they had read together as a keepsake.

“I’ve written something inside for you,” she said, as Waverly took the book from her. “Now, you must be brave again, for me. I will see you soon. I shall write to you, every day. I promise.”

“Red, can I stay here with you? I’ll be good.”

“I know you will Wiggle. My Wiggle. But, I have to leave here shortly and return home. Will you write to me? Tell me everything you are doing in London. I will visit you soon and have jelly. Red will have red. Remember.”

“Yes, Red will have red.”

Wynonna took her hand, leaning in to give Nicole a peck on the cheek. “Be good. I’ll keep practising chess until you come. I want to be able to beat you every time.”

“I let you win the other games,” Nicole replied, her cocky self on full display once more.

“You so didn’t,” Wynonna said, grinning. “So you. That’s so you, Red.”

They watched from the carriage window as Nicole ran alongside for a little before having to stop, panting, waving. They were almost at the station when Waverly shrieked, a look of terror on her face. “Ellie, where’s Ellie?”

“Where did you have her last?” her mother asked, trying to think if she had seen the doll that morning. “Did you have her when you entered the carriage?”

“She’s on Red’s bed. I want Ellie.”

“My child, we cannot go back for her. Our train is due shortly. There is not enough time to return. I will ask Nicole’s mother to send her to us. I’m sure she will oblige.”

Wynonna hoped Nicole would look after Ellie, not fire arrows at her as she had her own doll. She comforted Waverly who spent the best part of the train journey sobbing until sleep took over, her little body heaving every so often as she continued to cry in her sleep. 

On waking she sat silently looking out the window, tears continuing to roll down her face breaking Wynonna’s heart. “My petal, would you like me to read the story of King Arthur to you?”

Waverly nodded, not really caring about the story, wanting her Red and her Ellie. Wynonna opened the book, reading the inscription Nicole had left on the inside cover: 

To my Queen, the bravest in all the land. From her King, the most devoted in all the land. Love Red.

It was Wynonna’s turn to cry.

Ellie arrived safely a few days later with a note from Nicole to say her wrist was much better and she was looking forward to seeing them all soon. A date had been set for the beginning of October, Nicole travelling with her father to London, staying with the Earps for a few days before returning to Wattlestone. On hearing about Merlin’s cave, Nicole’s father made the decision to send her to Europe to continue her education, not as a punishment rather to provide stimulation for her overactive mind. 

He had seen from an early age her natural curiosity and intelligence matched that of his sons, not wanting her to miss out on a formal education more easily accessible to her brothers. She would board at the school during term times, returning to England during the holidays, or stay with relatives in Paris. Nicole was looking forward to her new adventure having grown bored of being home alone, while her brothers were educated at Eton. Their governess did her best to occupy Nicole's time but her knowledge was limited, Nicole often teaching her from books borrowed from her brothers, or from her father’s library.

Waverly waited by an upstairs window most of the morning looking for any sign of her Red, Ellie by her side. At precisely ten thirty seven an elegant carriage pulled up outside, Waverly watching as one of the coachmen jumped down to open the door, Nicole stepping out, taking in her surroundings, waiting for her luggage to be unloaded. She climbed the steps to the entrance, the coachman ringing the doorbell, standing back by her cases. Waverly had never run so fast in the house, something she wasn’t supposed to do. She didn’t care, wanting to be the first to the door. The housekeeper was already opening it as she descended the stairs rushing past her to hug Nicole.

“Hello Wiggle. Did you miss me?”

“Yes. Yes. I love you.”

Nicole laughed. “I love you too. May I come in?”

The housekeeper prised Waverly from Nicole, pulling her aside to allow Nicole to enter, the coachman depositing her luggage in the hall. He doffed his top hat to the housekeeper, who seemed quite taken by the young gentleman dressed in his black livery. Waverly took Nicole’s hand leading her through the house to the garden room, where mama and Wynonna were working on an embroidery. Wynonna stopped what she was doing on seeing Nicole unable to stop herself smiling. “Hello. Welcome to our humble abode. I see your wrist is better.”

“Much better. Thank you. I’ve managed to climb a few trees, although I don’t seem to have as much strength in that wrist. How is your chess coming along?”

“So, so. Papa taught me a few new moves I’m hoping to show you. Waverly is very good. She’s better than me.”

“Is that so?” Nicole asked. “Then the first game must be with you. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes. I would like that. Come see my bedroom. Mama has put a bed in for you.”

“How wonderful. Lead the way.”

A long tour of the house, Nicole found herself in the drawing room deep in concentration as they played chess until they were called for lunch. Wynonna noticed Nicole’s table manners had improved, as well as her general behaviour. Whether that was through growing up, or simply being in a strange house she could not tell. By the time evening came the girls had played so many games of chess they no longer knew who was the winner or the best, deciding it was a draw and they were all experts. Waverly was reluctant to leave Nicole, her mother insisting she go to bed otherwise Nicole would have to return to her own home.

Once alone Wynonna finally had an opportunity to speak with Nicole without Waverly hearing. “What news on your education?” she began. “When do you go away?”

Nicole set the chessboard up for one more game. “I leave next week. Switzerland till December. Then Paris for six months. All good fun.”

“So, you’ll be back for Christmas.”

“Hoping to. Papa wants me to be fluent in French on my return. He’s wagered me ten shillings I won’t.”

“How is Edward? I had a letter from him the other day saying he’s enjoying himself at Eton.”

“I wondered how you knew about my schooling. I thought it was my mother who might have told your mother. Edward is fine. Although, he’s quite jealous of me going abroad. He’s asked papa if he can go, but I think papa would prefer him to stay in England.”

“And, your mother. How is she?”

“Not happy I’m going. She plans to travel with me and perhaps stay for a few weeks in Geneva. I’ve told her I’ll be fine, that she doesn’t need to worry. But, you know mother. Where’s Willa?”

“Norfolk. She has a new beau. My aunt is chaperoning. Haven’t met him yet.”

“Does Waverly still think she’ll marry me?”

Wynonna nodded. “Tried explaining, even father has. It’s no use. She’s adamant it will be you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In many ways Queen Victoria assisted women in Britain to elevate their positions from merely homekeeper and baby dispenser. She believed women had just as much right to do what previously had been reserved for men.
> 
> However, it was not until 1870 that girl’s education was taken seriously by the British authorities. After the Education Act came into effect, elementary education for both sexes became compulsory. Girls began to learn reading, writing and arithmatic. Sadly, few girls had the chance to have a secondary education, with families placing more emphasis on educating their sons. 
> 
> Even upper class parents (such as Nicole's and Waverly's) didn’t consider their daughters’ secondary education of much importance until the 1890s. Patriarchal society valued the sons of the families, supporting their higher education in order to preserve the superiority of men in all areas of life. 
> 
> European education was slightly more progressive, although not much. I've fudged it for this story with Nicole going abroad just to keep the story plot going...(yep, I've cheated...).
> 
> Speaking of which, the game of chess is interesting, given how important the Queen is on the board. Every chess player knows the Queen is the most dominant piece, but did you know the game existed for five hundred years without her. 
> 
> Chess was invented in India, with the Queen originally a Senapati (Army General), hence why this piece holds great power and can move around freely in the war field (chessboard). The King simply sits and plans a strategy and does not fight the battle himself. When chess became a popular pastime for European royals in the Middle Ages the Army General evolved into a Queen to become the King’s fierce warrior and protector..!


	7. the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole will do anything for Waverly...

Nicole tiptoed into the bedroom, hoping not to wake Waverly. “I’m still awake,” she said, sitting up, watching Nicole extract a nightgown and hairbrush from her case.

“You should be asleep, young lady. It’s way past your bedtime.”

“Can I sleep with you? And, Ellie too.”

“That’s rather a lot in one bed. Perhaps Ellie can look after one bed tonight,” Nicole suggested, seeing Waverly’s bottom lip stick out. “Fine, everyone in. But, Ellie stays on your side.”

Waverly jumped out, rushing over to Nicole’s bed, Nicole laughing. “Wiggle, you could have stayed in your bed. I would have got in there. It’s warmer. No matter. Let me get changed and I’ll join you.”

Nicole looked around for somewhere to undress in private. “Wiggle close your eyes for a moment while I put my nightgown on.”

“Why? I saw you at the lake.”

“Pond. That was different. Quick, close them, or I won’t be able to get into bed with you. Keep them closed, promise.”

“Promise. Did you like the jelly? I asked cook to make it just for you.”

“I did. It was scrummy. Best jelly I ever had. Keep them closed. No peeking. You can open them now.”

Nicole sat in front of the mirror brushing her hair. Long red tresses falling onto her shoulders. “Can I brush your hair?” Waverly asked, Nicole nodding, handing her the brush. “I like your hair. I will have red hair when I’m older.”

“You don’t want red hair like mine. Yours is perfect, as you are Wiggle. We best hurry in case your mother finds us out of bed and sends me home.”

They snuggled up together, Ellie wedged between them, much to Nicole’s frustration. “Ellie is our baby,” Waverly said, trying to stifle a yawn. “We are her mama and papa and we live in a castle with a telescope.”

“A big castle, with tall towers. And, we eat jelly for supper every day.”

“I love you Red.”

“I love you too, Wiggle. Now go to sleep, for me.”

Nicole woke first, Ellie’s arm wedged under her body, her hand digging into her ribcage. She was sorely tempted to fling the doll across the room, but thought it best not to inflict damage on what had supposedly become her child in Waverly’s mind. She adored the attention received, adored that she was adored by someone who saw her as doing no wrong, utterly trusting to the point of going with her into a dark and scary place, where they both so nearly drowned. 

That day continued to weigh heavily on Nicole’s mind. Her eldest brother was furious when he heard, reminding her over and over how thoughtless she had been to have brought a younger child into Merlin’s cave and put their lives at risk. She fled in tears to her room, ashamed of what she had done, ashamed at being brought to tears for her selfish actions. He apologised later, explained to her his outburst was due to his own feelings of guilt at not having been there to guide and protect her. She accepted his apology, without further discussion, despite wanting to tell him she did not need protecting. His guidance perhaps, at correctly judging the tide as he had on previous excursions, never his protection. She could look after herself.

That single day, that single event, taught Nicole many valuable lessons. That she had survived something truly terrifying through her own actions, that she had put the life of another at risk through those same actions, that she would never again do anything to upset, or scare Waverly. Even if that meant playing dolls, or as Waverly called it their happy family, for hours, and hours, and hours.

Wynonna rescued her from yet another tea party Waverly had organised in her bedroom with all her other dolls, the relieved look on Nicole’s face a picture as Wynonna dragged her downstairs to play chess. “Thank you,” she mouthed silently, knowing Waverly was right behind her on the stairs, protesting loudly Wynonna had stolen Red from her. 

“I would have left you there all day,” Wynonna whispered. “But, that would be too cruel. So, how are you enjoying married life?”

“Ha ha,” Nicole replied, barely audible. “I still have sore ribs from last night.”

Wynonna gave her a curious look. “Should I ask why?”

“I suffocated the baby. Found her underneath me this morning.”

Wynonna snorted. “That’s so you, Red. So, so you.”

“What are you two whispering about?” a little voice behind them asked. “Mama says it’s rude to whisper. And, I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

“Oh, nothing,” Wynonna replied. “Red was just saying she loves playing families with you and Ellie. Isn’t that right Red?”

Nicole turned and smiled at Waverly. “Best game ever, better than red jelly, which is scrummy in my tummy. I hope we have more today.”

Waverly went off to find cook to put in her request, while Wynonna set up the chessboard. “Do you even like jelly?” she asked, moving the first piece.

“Can’t stand it. Makes me feel sick. But, if Waverly wants me to eat it, then I shall.”

“That sister of mine has you wrapped round her little finger. You really don’t have to do everything she wants.”

“I know. It’s just…what I did, what happened…she looks up to me.”

“Nicole, that doesn’t mean you have to eat jelly to please her. Would you like me to tell her you don’t like jelly?”

“No, no. I’m quite happy eating it. And, sleeping on dolls. Really, it’s absolutely no bother.”

“You’re such a liar Red. Checkmate.”

Nicole winked. “I let you win that game.”

The final day arrived, Nicole promising to keep writing to Waverly, simply explaining her letters might take a few weeks to arrive. Not once did she mention going abroad, worried Waverly would not understand, or might make a scene at the news. She hoped to be back for Christmas, suggesting she would ask her mother whether they could come visit Wattlestone for the New Year.

Waverly hugged her by the front door, again on the doorstep as the dashing coachman lifted her bags onto the carriage, and once more by the carriage. “Be good for me Wiggle, and look after our baby. I want to hear all what that naughty child gets up to in your letter. And, don’t feed her too much jelly. Otherwise, she’ll get very fat.”

There were tears as the carriage pulled away, Nicole off on a new adventure in Europe. Her first letter arrived two weeks later, Wynonna sitting with Waverly reading it with her, finally revealing that Nicole had gone to school in a place called Geneva to learn a new language. “Will she come back?” Waverly asked, her lower lip quivering. “She will come back, won’t she?”

“Yes, my petal. You heard her say she wants us to visit at Christmas. That will be fun, seeing her again.”

“Can I learn French? Is it hard?”

“I believe so, but you are clever enough. I will ask Miss Taylor if she can teach us a few words so you can speak with Red.”

“Will she speak English when we see her? I might not be able to understand if she doesn’t speak English.”

“Oh petal, of course she’ll still speak English. She’s learning French to be able to speak with her relatives in Paris that’s all. Shall we have a game of chess? We need to practise for when we see Red again.”

Their governess was able to teach the girls a few phrases, Waverly practising every day, picking them up quicker than Wynonna who was not as motivated. Learning simply was not her thing, not that she wasn’t clever, she was, extremely bright, she simply had little intention of ever being employed knowing her family were sufficiently wealthy for her to enjoy the leisure pursuits that wealth afforded. Namely, riding her horse in Green Park, or St. James’s Park, or Hyde Park, ice skating on the Serpentine in winter, selecting new dresses from a catalogue with mama, or shopping at Harrods for presents and confectionery. Her intention was to marry someone rich enough to allow her to continue the extremely comfortable lifestyle she enjoyed.

Waverly was different. She relished the intellectual challenge of learning, always eager to know how everything worked, clearly bright, gifted some might say, curious about the world. In many ways she resembled Nicole, who too had a thirst for knowledge and a natural curiosity, wanting more from life than simply to be an ornament at the end of a man’s arm. 

Nicole desired a mind able to argue forcibly and coherently about any subject she chose to consider. She had been indulged in her own home, her father and her brothers never once refraining from a good argument with her because she was a girl. To them she had just as much right to take part in a discussion on politics and religion as they did, her mother frequently tutting, or sighing if such matters were raised at the dining table, believing such matters should not be raised while eating.

An invitation arrived in the post the first week of December. Nicole’s mother had invited them to stay for a few days to see in the New Year. Waverly was beside herself with excitement, writing a letter to Nicole to say she and Wynonna would be there and would be able to speak to her. Nicole laughed when she read the letter, knowing Waverly often said something that needed translation. She guessed Waverly meant French, having mentioned that in a previous letter, but couldn’t be entirely sure.

It was a bitterly cold day when they departed London, father worrying their train might be cancelled due to the snow. Waverly gazed out the window, watching a white landscape drift by. _I wonder if Red will let me sleep with her,_ she thought. _I hope she does. I wonder if she wants to speak with me. I hope she likes my present. I wonder if she has got me a present. I hope so. I wonder if she misses me._

Carriages were waiting on their arrival, almost invisible in the snow now falling, the coachmen shivering as they sat on top. They huddled together under blankets for the short journey, Waverly leaning out the window as they turned into the long drive. There was no one at the entrance to greet them, the weather conditions too hostile to chance standing out for too long. They entered the main hall, Waverly remembering the grand staircase and the portraits of Nicole’s ancestors hung on every wall. Nicole’s mother emerged from the drawing room, welcoming her guests, asking how their journey was, servants taking coats and gloves and hats, other servants scurrying away with cases and presents that arrived with the family.

There was no sign of Nicole, Waverly’s heart sinking, taking Wynonna’s hand, holding back the tears. She wanted to ask Nicole’s mother where she was, but she was engrossed in conversation with her own mother, the pair arm in arm walking towards the drawing room. 

Suddenly, at the top of the stairs was her Red. She descended slowly, Waverly mesmerised by her transformation. Wearing a white dress, her hair tied back, she looked different, taller, to when they last were together. She smiled as she reached the group, looking down at Waverly, scooping her up in her arms.

“Hello Wiggle. Did you miss me?”

“I did. Oh, I did. I’m learning French.”

“How wonderful. Where’s Ellie?”

“Oh, I left her at home.”

“Mon dieu! Le bébé est volé,” Nicole replied. “Do you know what that means Wiggle?”

“No. I know how to ask the time and the way to the station.”

“It means, the baby is stolen. Come, let me show you to your rooms.”

Wynonna winked at Nicole as she ascended the stairs, Nicole mouthing thank you in response, knowing she probably had something to do with Ellie’s absence. Nicole opened the door to the nursery, leading her in. “Remember this place. I haven’t been in this room for ages.”

“Where will you sleep?” Waverly asked.

“I have the room next to Wynonna. Willa will be close by too, I think.”

“Oh, I thought…”

“I’m a little too big to sleep with you in the same bed. I’ve grown. Papa says my legs have been stretched. All the trees I have to climb in pirate school.”

“But, I like sleeping with you,” she replied. "I don’t mind you have long legs. Are you really in pirate school? Wynonna said…she never said pirates. And, you never said in your letters.”

“Of course I’m in pirate school. But, it’s a secret. You must promise not to tell anyone. I will sleep here with you if it will make you happy. Will it make you happy?”

Waverly hugged her Red. “Thank you. Wynonna said I mustn’t ask you, but I had to. I’m sorry I left our baby behind. I’ll bring her next time. And, I won’t tell anyone you’re at pirate school. Promise”

“I’m glad baby is safe. Have you been feeding her lots of jelly?” Nicole asked, pretending to be stern.

“Oh no. Biscuits and milk. I sent her to bed one day for not learning her times tables.”

“C'est un vilain bébé.”

“Can you teach me? I want to be able to speak to you.”

“You’re speaking to me now. But, of course. Then we can write to each other in French. Would you like that?”

“Oh yes. It will be our secret language.”

"Bien sûr. La langue du coeur."

Their families ate together in the dining room, decorated in festive garlands and beautiful gold plates on the table. A cheer went up as trays of goose were brought in for the main course. Waverly looked across the table believing this to be a banquet fit for a king and queen, her king sitting beside her laughing at something Wynonna had said, the happiest she had been in her life. _When we get married,_ she thought, _we will have a banquet like this, with gold plates and crackers. Red will wear a crown and speak to everyone in French. And, I will wear my best dress and have flowers in my hair._

Nicole turned to check on her, smiling. “I have brought you something from Geneva. I believe we’re opening presents after the meal.”

Waverly wanted to hug Nicole right there, too self-conscious with all the adults present. Nicole’s father was standing, making a speech, Nicole’s brothers banging the table in agreement, much to their mother’s embarrassment. And then, flaming puddings were brought in, the lights dimmed to enhance the spectacle, Waverly’s mouth open at the sight. This was the best Christmas ever, squeezing Nicole’s hand under the table. She was with her Red. Her pirate, that cheeky pirate Red, who stole her heart as a little girl and never gave it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French phrases: c'est un vilain bébé = it is a naughty baby; bien sûr, la langue du coeur = of course, the language of the heart.
> 
> Christmas traditions: At the start of the 19th century Christmas was hardly celebrated. Businesses didn't consider it a holiday. Gift-giving had traditionally been a New Year activity, but moved as Christmas became more important to the Victorians. By the end of the century, Christmas had become the biggest annual celebration in the British calendar. 
> 
> The idea of an indoor Christmas tree originated in Germany, where Prince Albert was born. The popularity of decorated Christmas trees grew, and with it came a market for tree ornaments in bright colours and reflective materials that would shimmer and glitter in the candlelight (no fairy lights at that stage..!). Nobody in Britain had heard of Santa Claus or Christmas Crackers before Victoria's reign. Similarly, no Christmas cards were sent. 
> 
> The wealth generated by the new factories and industries allowed middle class families to take time off work and celebrate over two days, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Boxing Day, December 26th, earned its name as the day servants and working people opened the boxes in which they had collected gifts of money from the “rich folk”. 
> 
> Turkeys had been brought to Britain from America hundreds of years before Victorian times. When Queen Victoria first came to the throne, chicken and turkey were too expensive for most people to enjoy. In northern England roast beef was served for Christmas dinner, while in London and the south, goose was favoured. Many poor people made do with rabbit.


	8. the Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Nicole being overly protective of Waverly...

The families gathered in the drawing room to distribute presents. Nicole the first to approach the Christmas tree, retrieving a rectangular box wrapped in red and white striped paper, a large red bow completing it. She handed the present to Waverly, who accepted it, not quite knowing what to do.

Nicole guided her to a chair, kneeling before her. “This is to keep Ellie company.”

Waverly slowly unwrapped the present, removing the lid, staring at the contents. Her mouth fell open, wide eyes taking in the gift Nicole brought back for her. “It’s a pirate. You got me a pirate. Thank you.”

“A sea captain, I guess it’s a pirate too. It even has a telescope. Do you like it?”

“I do. I do. It’s the best present ever,” she replied, removing the doll, hugging it to her chest. “We can sleep with her tonight.”

Wynonna came over to see what Nicole had given. “You’ll have to get a bigger bed if you keep having all these babies,” Wynonna teased. 

“Très amusant,” Nicole replied, realising what she had let herself in for. “Come, shall we see what other presents are for you,” taking Waverly’s hand.

Waverly tugged at her mother’s sleeve, asking where Nicole’s present was. They found it underneath another present their mother had chosen for Nicole, Waverly watching eagerly as she opened hers first. Nicole knew before the wrapping was removed it was a book. Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, with an inscription inside in Waverly’s own scratchy hand:

To Red, I love you. From Waverly

“How wonderful,” Nicole said after reading the first few lines of the story. “Thank you. We can read this together.”

“Oh yes. We can read it to baby.”

Gift giving over, they listened to Nicole’s mother play the piano, then Willa. Nicole played three pieces, much to the delight of Waverly, who was allowed to sit next to her on the piano stool, turning the sheet of music when prompted. She wanted to be able to play as well as Nicole, making a mental note to practise even harder. By ten o’clock Waverly was fading, the long evening and all the excitement too much for someone so young, her mother suggesting she should go up, Nicole offering to take her. As they left the room, Nicole spotted Edward and Wynonna by the garden door, Wynonna laughing at something he said, Edward looking pleased with himself.

Waverly’s eyes were heavy as she sat on the bed, clutching her new doll. “This is Red,” she said, her eyes closing. 

“Wiggle you need to get ready for bed. Do you need me to help you?”

Waverly nodded, her eyes now closed, her head drooping. Nicole began to undress her, struggling to remove her dress while Waverly was sitting on it. “Can you help me? Otherwise, you’ll end up having to sleep in your clothes.”

Waverly revived a little, raising her arms as if in surrender, her doll remaining in one hand. Nicole smiled at the sight, realising how much she loved this little girl, as much as any sister would. Wynonna appeared in the doorway. “She’s over-tired. Don’t be surprised if she starts crying. Waverly, it’s Wynonna. You need to get undressed.”

The pair lifted her up, making quick work of changing her into her nightgown, Nicole pulling back the covers to let her lie down. “Baby Red will look after you, until I return.”

Waverly nodded, her eyes closed, ready to fall asleep. The older girls tiptoed out, closing the door, heading downstairs. “So, you and Edward,” Nicole said, as they reached the bottom flight.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Wynonna replied.

“I saw you. He looked rather too pleased with himself.”

“How is Geneva?” 

“Geneva is fine. So, you and Edward.”

“Yes, Edward and I what?”

“Oh nothing. Geneva is interesting. We only speak French. It was hard at first, but so much better than the boring governess I had here. So, you and Edward.”

“Will you stop saying that. Yes, Edward and I. I’m not the one who has to sleep with a doll tonight.”

“I should have thought that through a little more. Although, her face when she opened the box. I wish I’d had a little sister.”

“You have. In a way. Waverly worships you. I have to listen to her singing your praises every day. Red, this. Red, that. How wonderful Red is at everything.”

“Naturally, given how wonderful I am. So, you and Edward.”

Wynonna threw her hands up. “I give up. To think I was jealous of you for ages.”

“Were you? I had no idea. I may have been a little jealous of you too. You get to be Waverly’s big sister and teach her things. I think she worships you more.”

“No you,” Wynonna replied.

“No you,” Nicole insisted, the pair arm in arm, giggling as they returned to the drawing room, Edward approaching, offering Wynonna a cup of warm spiced apple juice, sending the girls into a fit of laughter.

Nicole was tempted to go to her own bedroom, knowing if Waverly woke up and she wasn’t in bed with her she might be upset. Resigning herself to having to sleep with yet another doll, she grabbed her nightgown and brush heading to the nursery. Slipping into bed, Waverly was fast asleep, baby Red still in her arms, Nicole attempting to gently prise the doll from her, meeting with resistance. She closed her eyes, happy to be with her pretend little sister, happy for Edward and Wynonna. 

New Year’s Eve was upon them. Waverly woke early, shaking Nicole, she pretending to still be asleep, making loud snoring noises. “I know you’re awake,” Waverly said. “Baby needs feeding. It’s your turn.”

“I’m asleep. Very much asleep. The baby can wait.”

She could hear Waverly talking to her doll, telling her papa was very naughty for not getting up and feeding baby. She could feel the bed move as Waverly got out, still talking to the doll, telling it she would look after her. “Papa loves you,” Waverly repeated. “And, mama loves you. And, mama loves papa. There, there, don’t cry little one. I know. You’re very hungry.”

Nicole turned over, blissfully happy listening to Waverly’s childish chatter, equally happy to have the bed to herself, finally, having been squeezed on the edge for most of the night. “Papa is very tired,” she said. “She has to work hard to earn money to pay for baby’s milk.”

She felt Waverly’s hand on her shoulder and then a peck on her cheek. “Papa works hard. That’s why we love her dearly. Baby Red wants a cuddle and so does mama.”

Nicole was hoping her pretend family might stay out of bed a little longer, sighing, moving over to let them back in. Waverly handed her the doll, Nicole cuddling the doll a little too roughly, the doll being removed from her arms as Waverly told her off for scaring the baby. “Baby needs papa to be gentle. There, there, don’t cry baby. Papa will get you milk. Won’t you papa?”

“Papa will think about getting milk.”

“Papa will get milk now and biscuits. Or, mama will be cross with papa.”

“Is that so? And, what if papa refuses to get biscuits and milk.”

“Then mama will tickle you until you do.”

“Fine. What kind of biscuits would you…would baby like?”

“The ones we had yesterday. They were scrummy in my tummy.”

Nicole laughed, realising why Waverly was insisting baby be fed. It was endearing to be part of Waverly’s world, even hearing her repeat one of her phrases back was charming. “I love you Wiggle,” she said as she lifted herself from the bed, shivering a little as the cold morning air hit her body, remembering her dressing gown was in her own bedroom. “I’ll see what cook can give us. Be right back.”

Waverly was lying down still talking to baby Red on her return, a mug of warm milk and a plate of Waverly’s favourite biscuits in her hands supplied by a frazzled cook. She watched as Waverly pretended to feed the baby first before raising the mug to her own lips, taking a few sips, a small white moustache visible when she lowered the mug. Next she broke a biscuit into quarters pretending to feed her baby a little before popping a quarter into her own mouth. “Baby was very hungry, wasn’t she papa.”

“Very. And, so was mama apparently. Can papa get back into bed now? Papa is getting cold.”

Waverly brushed some crumbs off the bed, pulling back the covers, allowing Nicole to climb in. “Baby needs to use the bathroom,” she announced, as soon as Nicole had comfortably settled herself.

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s all go. Just in case. Put on your dressing gown or you’ll be cold.”

She took Waverly’s hand, leading her to the bathroom, waiting outside with baby Red, who evidently no longer needed to go. Waverly emerged several minutes later looking relieved, taking Nicole’s hand once more, dragging her back to the nursery. 

“Is there anything else baby would like?” Nicole asked. “Or, can papa get back into bed?”

“Baby Red would like a mince pie. And, more of those biscuits.”

Nicole hopped into bed, knowing Waverly was enjoying ordering her around. “Papa says baby will get fat if she eats any more. Papa suggests we all close our eyes and go to sleep.”

Waverly lay down, mumbling at how mean papa was to baby. Nicole turned over to face the other way, smiling to herself at how adorable Waverly was even when not getting her own way. 

Edward organised a chess challenge after breakfast between the children, their eldest brother declining to take part, saying it would not be a fair competition given he was chess champion at school. He hovered over the board offering his suggestions on moves to anyone interested, his brothers increasingly calling on him when forced into difficult positions by Wynonna, or Nicole. It would be safe to say everyone let Waverly win her games easily, impressed at how good she was at that age. In her element with all the attention she was receiving, she continued to keep her eyes on Nicole to make sure she was never too far out of her sight.

Lunch over, it was decided they would go for a stroll in the grounds, the boys throwing snowballs at each other, careful not to hit any of the girls. Nicole, ever the tomboy, refused to be excluded, shaping a particularly large snowball, aiming it at Edward. It hit him squarely on the back, making Waverly gasp. He turned round to see who had thrown it, Nicole pointing to Wynonna. “I never. It was Nicole.”

Nicole pretended to look shocked, placing her hands behind her back to brush off the snow. “Pas moi.”

“C'était toi,” he replied, scooping up a handful of snow determined to hit her.

“Quick Wiggle, we must escape for the enemy is upon us.”

She grabbed Waverly’s hand, heading towards the woods, hoping to evade Edward’s shot. They reached the pond, listening for anyone approaching, the shouts and laughter from the others now in the distance. The water was frozen, thick enough to skate on, something Nicole and her brothers did in the winter. Had she been alone, she would easily have enjoyed the sensation of slipping and sliding, moving over the ice. Today would not be that day, her hand gripping Waverly’s, fearful she might venture out and something happen to her. 

“You’re hurting me,” Waverly said, after a few minutes. “I won’t go near the water.”

“We’d better find the others,” she replied, loosening her grip.

“Are you scared?” 

Nicole nodded. “I am Wiggle. Scared of losing you. I nearly lost you once, I’m never going to let that happen again.”

“Where were you two?” Wynonna asked as they emerged from the trees. I’ve been looking for you. Edward is fetching the sleds. We’re going to the hill.”

“Red took me to the pond, but it was frozen. We didn’t go near because Red doesn’t want to lose me. Isn’t that right?”

Wynonna smiled, knowing Waverly was now in safe hands, even though she had been told repeatedly not to go anywhere alone with Nicole ever again. Wynonna could see Nicole’s face, paler than before despite rosy cheeks. “Are you alright? You look…”

“I’m fine. Perhaps, we’ll go in. It’s getting rather cold.”

“Can we have a go on the sled? Please, please.” Waverly begged. “I’ve never been on one.”

“They’re quite dangerous. You might fall off. Perhaps another day.”

Wynonna took Nicole’s arm, walking her a little way from Waverly, telling her sister to stay where she was. “This isn’t like you. You’re usually up for these activities.”

Nicole glanced back. “I don’t want Waverly to get hurt. I feel responsible for her. Especially after…”

“I understand. Really, I do. I know you feel guilty about what happened. I feel guilty I wasn’t there with you. But, you can’t wrap her up like a doll. Where’s Red gone? Where’s that pirate in you?”

“I left her in Merlin’s cave.”

Waverly pulled on Nicole’s coat sleeve. “Please can we? Please, please.”

“Alright. But, you sit with me and we don’t go too fast.”

Wynonna followed, saddened by Nicole’s loss of courage around Waverly, determined to discuss the matter further, to reassure her Waverly was perfectly safe. The boys were already racing down the hill as they approached, the older ones going extremely fast in an effort to beat each other. Edward handed Wynonna his sled, offering to sit behind her and steer, Wynonna giving Nicole a look as she pretended to hug herself, in the full knowledge she was being teased. 

Waverly wanted to go on the wooden sled by herself, Nicole refusing, telling her she needed to go too, despite Waverly’s protests. “I’m big enough,” she said as Nicole sat behind her. 

“I know you are. They can go very fast. Let me steer it for you.”

After several races, everyone was growing tired, deciding to return to the house. Waverly insisted on having one go by herself, to race Wynonna down the hill. Nicole was reluctant, explaining over and over it was dangerous, Waverly sticking out her lower lip, finally getting Nicole to hand her the sled.

She showed Waverly how to steer, how to brake with her feet, telling her not to go too fast. She stood at the top of the hill, waiting for Waverly to set off. Her route was straight down, the sled picking up speed, too much speed. Waverly was going too fast, far too fast to stop at the bottom. She watched as Waverly tried to brake with her feet, the sled tipping over, Waverly catapulted off, lying on the ground, motionless, a sickening scarlet streak staining the snow. 

It was the first time anyone had heard Nicole scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French phrases: Très amusant = very amusing; pas moi = not me; c'était toi = it was you.
> 
> Treasure Island is an adventure novel by Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson, telling the tale of "buccaneers and buried gold." Its influence is enormous on popular perceptions of pirates, including such things as treasure maps marked with an “X”, the Black Spot, tropical islands, and one-legged seamen bearing parrots on their shoulders.
> 
> Treasure Island was originally considered a coming-of-age story and is noted for its atmosphere, characters, and action. Originally serialised in a children's magazine called Young Folks from 1881 through 1882 under the title Treasure Island or the mutiny of the Hispaniola. It was first published as a book on 14 November 1883.
> 
> The novella Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens was first published in London in 1843. Dickens wrote the story during a period when the British were exploring and evaluating past Christmas traditions, including carols, and newer customs such as Christmas trees. Dickens had written three Christmas stories prior to the novella, inspired after a visit to the Field Lane Ragged School, one of several establishments for London's street children. 
> 
> The treatment of the poor and the ability of a selfish man to redeem himself by transforming into a more sympathetic character are the key themes of the story. It was a social commentary at a time when Victorians were evaluating how best to help those less fortunate than themselves.


	9. the Piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly finally visits Nicole in Paris...

Nicole’s legs could not carry her fast enough down the hill. Her eldest brother reached Waverly first, gently turning her over, lifting her in his arms. She whimpered at the movement, her eyes remaining closed as he began the journey back to the house. Her free arm hung limply, her head resting against his body, a cut above her right eye. Nicole reached them. “Is she? Is she…”

“We need to get her inside. Run and tell mama Waverly’s been hurt.”

“No, I’m staying with her.”

Wynonna rushed to join them. “Waverly, it’s Wynonna. Can you hear me?”

She nodded, opening her eyes, raising her hand to her head, bursting into tears at the sight of blood. Her head throbbed, her ankle hurt too, confused as to how she came to be in someone’s arms with her own blood on her fingers when moments earlier she had been speeding down the hill. “I want Red. I want Red,” she repeated.

“I’m here. Let me take her. She wants me.”

Nicole’s brother handed over the injured child, ordering Edward to run ahead to inform their parents, Wynonna walking beside. “Don’t touch your eye,” she instructed. “We’ll wash it when you’re inside.”

“It hurts,” she sobbed. 

“It’s alright Wiggle. Don’t be scared. Pirates are never scared.”

“You were scared. It hurts.”

“For you,” her voice sterner than she intended, fear and concern taking over in the moment. “I told you not to go too fast. Didn’t I say not to go too fast?”

Waverly’s crying became louder, trying once more to touch her head. “I want Wyn.”

“Sorry, sorry. Wiggle, I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault. It was that silly sled. Naughty sled hurt my Wiggle.”

“I want Wyn,” she persisted, trying to get free of Nicole’s arms.

“Let me carry her,” Wynonna offered, Nicole reluctant at first, sensing her continuing to carry Waverly would only upset her more. 

Reaching the house, both mothers were by the garden door, along with Willa and the housekeeper holding a bowl of warm salty water and a clean cloth in her hands in readiness. Waverly was brought into the sitting room and placed on a couch, several cushions arranged under her head for support. Nicole and Waverly remained with their mothers watching as the housekeeper bathed the cut, removing most of the blood. “Not too deep,” she advised, “soon be mended. I’ll get a bandage for it. Now, how about a nice warm milk with a little brandy.” 

Nicole knelt down by Waverly, taking her hand. “I’m so sorry I told you off for going too fast. It wasn’t your fault. Forgive me.”

Waverly gave the smallest of nods, the cut throbbing as she moved her head, her eyes betraying her heart. Nicole saw it, saw how Waverly now looked at her, leaving the room, running to her bedroom, throwing herself on the bed, her heart breaking. The shock of something bad happening to Waverly, despite all her efforts to protect her, was painful enough and now she had lost her love. It had to come out, all of it, all the pain she held inside, if she was to ever move beyond blaming herself for what happened in Cornwall. A knock on the door told her she had company. “Go away,” she shouted. “Leave me alone.”

The handle of the door turned, Wynonna appearing, waiting to be invited in. “Hey, it’s me. It’s alright. She’s alright. Nicole can we speak.”

“No. Leave me alone.”

Wynonna remained at the door. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Nicole sat up, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, bringing her knees up to her chest, her head lowered, embarrassed at having been caught crying. Wynonna approached the bed, sitting on the edge facing her. “Waverly’s frightened herself. She knows she should have been going slower. You were right not to let her have a go on her own. I should have listened to you. And, she should have listened to you. I’m sorry.”

“She’s upset with me.”

Wynonna edged nearer. “Not really. She thinks you don’t love her because you told her not to go fast. And, she did. She’s blaming herself.”

“I do love her. It breaks my heart to see her injured. I knew this would happen. I knew it.”

“You did and I should have realised too. I got carried away. Please don’t blame yourself for this. Nicole, Red. Red the pirate. The bravest pirate in the whole land.”

“King. The most devoted in the all land.”

“There. That’s who we love. Right there. Friends.”

Nicole looked up. “Friends.”

“Now, a certain little lady is missing you downstairs. Shall we go see her?”

Nicole hopped off the bed at the same time as Wynonna, the pair returning to the sitting room, where Waverly was sipping fortified warm milk, her mother at one end of the couch, feeding her biscuits from a small plate. Nicole held back a little, nervous of upsetting Waverly again, Wynonna taking her hand and pulling her nearer. 

“Mama said I must rest,” Waverly began. “Can we play families?”

“Of course we can,” Nicole replied. “I’ll get the baby. And, some of my dolls. Would you like that?”

“I’m sorry I went fast. I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, Waverly. My precious, precious Waverly, it wasn’t your fault. It really wasn’t your fault. Would you like to stay here and play, or shall I carry you to the nursery and you can lay down?”

She held out her arms, Nicole scooping her up, carrying her to the top of the house, Wynonna following with the biscuits and milk. “I love you Wiggle,” Nicole whispered. “Do you know that?”

Nicole and Wynonna spent the rest of the day entertaining Waverly, who drifted off to sleep shortly before seven. Her mother checked on her, suggesting the girls get ready for the evening meal, Nicole saying she would stay with Waverly even though she had been looking forward to celebrating the New Year with her family. She was exactly where she wanted to be, by Waverly’s side, drifting off to sleep herself as they lay together in bed. 

Waverly woke during the night, crying with the pain in her ankle, Nicole comforting her. “There, there. Let me rub your back. That’s what nanny used to do for me.”

She rubbed the little girl’s back, Waverly’s sobs easing, silence returning eventually as she fell back to sleep. Her eye was swollen the next morning, below her bandage, looking more like a boxer who had received a blow. Wynonna tried not to look shocked when she saw her, noticing Nicole appeared pale once more, presumably not having slept much.

“You missed a wonderful party last night. You really could have come down, you know. I tried champagne. Edward let me have a sip.”

“That was nice of him. I’m glad.”

“Aren’t you going to tease me about Edward?”

“No. I think it’s lovely he cares. He’s my favourite brother.”

“And mine,” Wynonna replied, grinning. “Would you like me to stay while you go rest? It can’t be much fun wedged in such a small bed with my little sister and how many dolls?”

“Four. Our family has grown. No, it’s fine. I’ll stay in case she wakes up.”

“Nicole. Go. Get some rest. You’re looking whiter than Waverly’s bandage. If she wants you when she wakes I’ll come fetch you. Deal.”

“Deal. Thank you.”

The rest of the visit passed without further drama. Nicole dressed Waverly’s wound, the only person she would let near it, reading her Treasure Island and generally doing everything the little girl asked. Both were sad on parting, Nicole promising to keep writing, suggesting she would send her some French exercises to do to improve her vocabulary. On January 5th Nicole opened her cards to celebrate her thirteenth birthday, spotting Waverly’s writing on the envelope of one. Inside was a handmade card, depicting a swashbuckling pirate, clearly copied from the book she’d been given and what appeared to be a telescope. The words inside were simple, yet meant more to Nicole than all the presents she received that day. 

To Red, my pirate. Love Wiggle

She placed the card in the book Waverly had given her as a present, taking it to Geneva.

They hoped to meet when Nicole was back in England, dates suggested, only for plans to be changed due to clashing commitments by both families. It would take another two years before their paths crossed again, Waverly and Wynonna invited with their mother to spend a month at a chateau in the suburbs of Paris. Edward would join them later. Waverly was stressing, practising all the exercises set by their new governess who was fluent in French, spending hours at the piano in the hope of being able to play for Nicole. _I wonder what she looks like now,_ she thought, _I hope she doesn’t think I’m too childish. No dolls this time. I’ll get mama to purchase a gift for her. Do I still call her Red?_

They would travel from Charing Cross station, a short distance from their London home, catching a ferry from Folkestone, England to Boulogne, France, with a long train journey into the heart of Paris. Their train departed Charing Cross at 9.40am precisely on a wet Monday morning, three women and two male servants accompanying them to assist with the large volume of luggage their mother insisted on taking with them on the trip. They arrived in Folkestone in plenty of time to catch the 11.35am crossing, departing Bologne shortly before 2pm. Their train pulled into Paris seven minutes after 6pm, a slight delay caused by a flock of sheep who decided to block the train’s path into the city. 

Carriages awaited, taking them through the Arc de Triomphe towards the Seine. A magical sight, Waverly eager to take in everything on her journey in a foreign land. The carriages eventually pulled up outside a grand chateau, Waverly looking to see if Nicole was there to greet them. Servants were on hand to help them from the carriages, speaking in French, Waverly catching a few words, their speed of talking too fast for her ear. 

As they entered Nicole’s mother was there to greet them and a very much taller Nicole, in the most beautiful dress Waverly had ever seen. Nerves got the better of her, holding back, not wanting to approach her Red. Nicole spied her, winking, kissing Wynonna on both cheeks as was customary in France, holding out her hand towards Waverly. “Hello Wiggle. Did you miss me?”

Waverly extended her hand, Nicole pulling her nearer, planting a kiss on each cheek. “I did. You sound different.”

“I have a little accent now. Too long away from England. And, how is your French coming along?”

“Our governess says I am doing well. I may not be as good as you.”

“Then we shall practise together. You and me. How is baby Red? Not missing her papa.”

Waverly lowered her gaze. “I don’t play with dolls anymore.”

“Forgive me. I forget. It is so good to see you after all this time. Your eye is much better.”

Waverly instinctively moved her fingers to the scar above her eye. “Hardly there. A small line no more.”

Nicole was smiling at her, holding both her hands. “You are so grown up.”

Waverly felt her cheeks burn. “I’m…I’ve missed you.”

“And, I you. We shall not leave it so long in future. No?”

Waverly giggled. “You sound so different.”

Nicole’s extended family were charming, speaking English with a heavy accent to accommodate their guests. Nicole’s mother seemed in her element with her friend staying, the pair retreating to one of the sitting rooms after dinner to catch up. That allowed the girls to become reacquainted, Wynonna asking about Edward, Nicole filling her in on what she knew of her brother. “He’s much taller now, as I am,” she began. “Doing extremely well at Eton. Father’s very proud of him. He’s probably told you he’ll be joining father soon in his work. Really can’t understand why he doesn’t want to go to university. Such a waste.”

“I think that might possibly be my fault,” Wynonna replied. “He wants to be in London to visit.”

“Oh,” Nicole replied. “Oh, right. I see. Silly me. So, you and Edward.”

“Yes. Edward and I. He’s so like you it’s untrue.”

“He mentioned in his letter he’s visited you. I was quite jealous knowing he got to be with my two favourite people in the world.”

Waverly’s cheeks flushed again, moving her gaze away from Nicole, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She had, waiting for their eyes to meet again, smiling, the world slowing.

“Waverly’s been practising the piano,” Wynonna said, sensing the pause in conversation. “She’s rather good.”

“How wonderful. Would you play for me?”

Waverly nodded, Nicole holding out her hand to guide her to the room where her uncle’s grand piano lived. Sitting together on the piano stool, it was Nicole’s turn to act as music sheet turner for her young protégé. Chopin’s Etude Op. 10 No. 3, Nicole raising her eyes at the choice. “This is very impressive,” she said. “Even I struggle with this piece.”

“I’m not very good at it. I know the first part very well. I struggle with the more technical elements.”

“Then we will play together. I’m sure by the end of your visit we will be accomplished. And, so to begin.”

Waverly immediately felt nervous performing before Nicole. She managed to get a little way into playing the music, before making one too many mistakes, stopping, her hands hovering over the keys unable to continue. “I’m sorry, I’m still learning this piece.”

“Mais non. You are,” she replied, realising she was breaking into French to express herself. “Tu es magnifique. On joue encore, oui. ”

“Oui,” Waverly replied. “Encore.”

Piano lesson over, they retired to bed, Nicole kissing the girls on both cheeks once more before departing to her own room. Waverly lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling more in love with Nicole than she had ever been. She looked up to her, someone to whom she could aspire to be. As much as she adored her mother and her sisters, they seemed to have no more ambition than to be what others wanted them to be. _I want to be her,_ she thought. _She’s beautiful and everything. I made such a mess of that piece. She’ll hate me for it. The way she moved her hands. I’ll ask mama to hire a music teacher. Yes. I wish I could stay here._

Waverly was up early the next morning, finding the room where the piano lived, practising over, and over, and over the piece she most wanted to play to Nicole. Wynonna found her, suggesting they go to breakfast. “Do you think she likes me?” Waverly asked as they made their way to the dining room.

“She adores you,” Wynonna replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French phrases: Mais non = but no; tu es magnifique = you are great; on joue encore, oui = we play again, yes.
> 
> The custom of sending greetings cards took off in the Victorian era. By the 1850s, the greeting card had been transformed from a relatively expensive, handmade and hand-delivered gift to a popular and affordable means of personal communication, due largely to advances in printing, and a reduction in postal rates with the introduction of the postage stamp.
> 
> Travelling to Paris was fascinating to research. There were essentially four routes from London to Paris in the 1890s. I went with the Folkestone to Bologne route. If you want to get a sense of the world I'm writing about, there is THE MOST amazing archive video of Paris in the 1890s if you're interested (guy on crutches, crossing the busy thoroughfare outside Notre Dame Cathedral, & the boy being ushered out of the way by an umbrella at the boating lake...): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjDclfAFRB4
> 
> The chateau I refer to is another Rothschild's building. Now derelict, hopefully being renovated, sitting on the banks of the Seine in Paris: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTyR5cKJ6LM
> 
> The music Waverly struggles with is truly beautiful. Worth a listen, if you want to get a sense of the relationship forming between Waverly and Nicole as they mature: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_VsxGiXxBs


	10. the Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What path does Waverly want to take...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you have been wondering about respective ages in the story (author nervously raises her hand too..!).
> 
> I'm trying to keep this as Wynonna Earp as I can (yes, yes, I know, late 19th century England). Anyways...at the start of this chapter Nicole is 15, Waverly 9, Wynonna 15, with birthdays as per WE. By the end of the chapter, Nicole and Wynonna are 18 and Waverly is 13. I'm using their age differences/birthdays to guide me, but sometimes I get confused at how old everyone is depending on when a chapter is set. Stay with me. I know where I'm going...(I don't).
> 
> Sorry, one more thing: if you want to hear me explaining how I come up with stories then check out Earp Fiction Addiction's latest podcast: http://efapodcast.com/ (apologies now for sounding very British, with a side order of Cockney...!)
> 
> .

Waverly heard Nicole speaking with her aunt as they entered, her French fluent, discussing what they might do for the day. Customary kisses on cheeks as a greeting, Nicole’s aunt bid them good morning, saying she would see them that evening, not wanting to intrude on their breakfast. 

Nicole’s face lit up on seeing Waverly, reverting to English, informing her aunt how good Waverly was at the piano. “You must hear her aunt. So accomplished for someone so young. But before, I would like to show you Paris and perhaps have a picnic in the park. The weather is too hot to remain inside.”

“Our governess lived in France,” Waverly replied, “to practise. She has told me much about Paris.”

“Then you will be able to tell her much on your return. Come, sit. We eat first. Frogs legs and snails. Oui.”

Waverly’s face fell. “Oh…I’m…I’m sure they’re delicious.”

“Nicole is teasing you,” Wynonna offered. “At least, I hope she is. If I find a worm on my plate Red, I’m making you eat it.”

“Red,” she replied. “I haven’t heard that in some time,” her eyes falling on Waverly. “Gosh, all those times I scared you as a pirate. How horrid of me. My friends call me ma puce, my flea, which sounds frightfully rude but really means sweetie, at least I hope it means. Perhaps what they mean is I irritate them like a flea sometimes. Who can say?” Her eyes remained on Waverly. “And, you would be my little doll.”

Waverly listened quietly to Nicole telling her sister about the friends she had made in Geneva, wishing she was one of them. _I wonder if mama would let me study there,_ she thought. _I could be her doll and talk to her in French all day. I’m not sure I’d like to eat frogs’ legs, or snails. That’s horrid. I must practise my piece before she hears me play. What if she doesn’t like it? Or, thinks I’m not good enough._

“You’re quiet this morning,” Nicole added, interrupting her thoughts.

“Do you like living here?” Waverly asked, not knowing what else to say. “And, eating legs.”

“I do. Very much. And, no I don’t eat legs. Like you, I prefer them to remain on the frog. I’m hoping to return to England to study. Father would like me to go to Oxford, but I have my heart set on Cambridge. I will have cook prepare a picnic. I have some letters to write. May I suggest we depart no later than ten. Paris is very large.”

Waverly waited until Nicole had left the room. “Would you eat frogs’ legs, or snails?”

Wynonna mimed throwing up. “I refuse to eat anything that crawled out of a garden. Hopped. Or, didn’t hop for that matter after someone decided to dehop it. Unhop. Remove its hopping ability.”

Waverly sighed. “Frogs jump. They don’t hop. What you mean is dejump, unjump. Which are not words, but I’ll allow you these verbs on this occasion.”

“You and your transitive verbs,” Wynonna replied. “There will come a point when your head explodes. You do know that?”

“Intransitive. They are intransitive verbs. Jump and hop are both intransitive. And no, my head will not explode.”

“Is that so little sister of mine? Can you not be so clever at the breakfast table? I need to eat in ignorance. Pass me the butter. Please.”

“Passez le beurre s'il vous plait.”

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “You know what your trouble is?”

“Quoi?”

“Rien. And, that’s the trouble.”

The carriages took them through the city, Waverly falling in love over and over with a landscape so alien to London, as Nicole explained to her the various sights. They stopped to wander underneath the recently completed Eiffel Tower, Nicole explaining it was erected in under two years, asking whether they would like to visit the top, Waverly’s eyes following the metal structure all the way up deciding it was too high. 

Wynonna tried repeatedly to convince her otherwise, wanting to experience the view. Waverly’s mind could not be changed, Nicole stepping in to mediate, seeing the unease on her face, suggesting they might return another day. Picnic eaten, they headed to the house late afternoon, Waverly asking if she could continue practising on the piano, Nicole offering to sit with her and help.

It was the first time they were together alone, Waverly struggling to get through the piece as Nicole patiently showed her how to move her fingers, their hands touching occasionally as she demonstrated how to play a particular section. “Do you have many friends in school?” Waverly asked, halfway through the piece.

“A few. Mostly other English girls. I have one close friend, Shae. Her father is Physician to the Queen. She’s hoping to study at Cambridge, like me, which will be immense fun if we both end up there together.”

“I wish I could go to school with you.”

“That would be immense fun too. Sadly, younger girls are not taught at the same school. They are in the next town, although my friend Lilou visits her sister every Saturday, so I suppose that would be a consideration.”

Waverly’s heart leapt at the thought of Nicole considering her as a younger sister. They continued to practise, the time running away, absorbed in their own precious, intimate world once more, Waverly never wanting it to end. A bell rang for the evening meal, Nicole realising they hadn’t changed, suggesting they go quickly to their rooms for fear of appearing rude by being late to the table. 

The weeks passed quickly, too quickly for Waverly, each day with Nicole a joy, her ability to understand and speak French improving as her devoted teacher, her friend, her almost sister helped her gain more confidence conversing in a foreign language.

Wynonna was frequently absent following Edward’s arrival, the pair strolling in the garden away from prying eyes. It meant she had Nicole all to herself most days, taking the carriage into the city, or out into the countryside, Waverly enjoying those days the best, the noise and bustle of the city having become a little too much for her. She learnt how to play boules, learnt how to kiss everyone’s cheeks in the correct manner, learnt how to be with Nicole. 

As their time in Paris drew to an end, she became quieter, Nicole sensing the sadness in her little friend. “I may be back for Christmas. I could come visit. I’m sure Edward will be calling on Wynonna and I could come too. Would you like that?”

Waverly nodded, unable to look at her friend. “I wish you were my sister. Then we would never be parted.”

“Oh, but I am your sister,” she replied. “I think of you as the sister I never had. That I would teach, and play dolls with and give her all the cuddles in the world.”

Waverly felt Nicole’s long arms wrap round her body, her eyes watering, knowing she would have loved all of that. As the carriages pulled away from the chateau, Waverly saw Nicole waving one last time, Wynonna squeezing her hand reassuringly. She was sick on the boat, the choppy English Channel making the journey home even worse. As she lay in her own bed that night her mind settled on the idea she would go to Cambridge, not entirely sure what that meant, or even where Cambridge was. None of those details mattered. If Nicole was going there she would follow. 

Her tenth birthday came and went. No more dolls as presents at her insistence. Nicole’s mother sent a book of fairytales, written in French, with a note saying Nicole had chosen this for her. The inscription inside read:

For my little doll, all my love Red

Waverly spent hours reading and re-reading each story, learning them by heart, her governess translating any words over which she stumbled. Her desire to attend school in Geneva was met with strong resistance from her mother, although her father thought it might be worth considering, explaining they needed to let her grow up, not continue to treat her as the baby of the family. 

Her mother agreed in principle, but secretly was not prepared to let her go, long discussions with Nicole’s mother re-enforcing her desire to keep Waverly at home. She offered to pay for more tutors, better tutors, whatever tutor Waverly wanted so long as her darling child remained in London. Waverly now understood why Nicole’s mother travelled with her to Geneva the first time, possibly feeling the same as her own mother at the thought of losing contact with her youngest.

Christmas came and went, Nicole unable to visit due to being poorly, suspected pneumonia according to Edward. She was recuperating at Wattlestone, Waverly asking her mother if they could pay her a visit to make her feel better. Her mother didn’t think it wise, under the circumstances, but suggested she make Nicole a get well card for Edward to take with him. She spent the remainder of the day working diligently on her drawing, carefully colouring in her creation, writing a touching note inside that only her Red would understand. 

She received a lovely reply from Nicole saying she was feeling much better and was sad to have missed their reunion. She promised she would visit when better, explaining her mother refused to let her return to Switzerland, given how ill she had been, and would be spending her time either at Wattlestone, or London. Waverly prayed it would be London, a chance to see her hero more regularly.

On the occasions Nicole was in London, she would accompany Edward, arriving late morning, allowing him to spend sufficient time with Wynonna while they went riding in one of the parks. Waverly had come to realise Nicole never wanted to sit still, always looking to the next activity, whether it was practising the piano, or French, or chess, or drawing. Constantly on the go, her busy mind needing to be stimulated, needing to be fed, much like Waverly’s. The thought of waiting for someone to entertain them alien to both, thirsting for more, searching for that which would make them feel alive.

Waverly’s parents were thrilled at the announcement of Willa’s engagement to her beau in Norfolk. A respectable gentleman, quiet, with a good job and sufficient wealth for their father to agree to the marriage. The wedding was a small affair, a church wedding in the parish where Willa’s husband grew up, afternoon tea at their aunt’s house, the couple departing on honeymoon to Ostend, Belgium, the next day. 

The announcement of Wynonna’s engagement to Edward came as no surprise to anyone. Both families were overjoyed at the news, an entire weekend devoted to celebrating the couple at Wattlestone in contrast to Willa’s more subdued affair. Being two years older, Edward waited until Wynonna turned eighteen, although he secretly had been thinking about asking for her hand since the age of sixteen, waiting for the right moment to ask. They were a perfect couple, Wynonna’s high-spirited independence and Edward’s quiet adoration of his soon-to-be wife adorable to watch.

Waverly stood on the terrace, escaping the music and laughter coming from inside, looking out over a landscape that had shaped her early life. The very first time she met Nicole, that noisy pirate, so brazen, so full of life, so wanting to enjoy life, she couldn’t help but be affected by that exuberance. 

A hand touched her back, knowing immediately who it was, turning, studying the soft outline of Nicole’s face as she stood beside her, a glass of champagne in her hand. “Wynonna’s enjoying the party enormously,” she said. “Edward is too. Father will make a speech no doubt, as he always does on these occasions. He’s a little tipsy so that should be fun. I can just see mother’s face now. Are you coming in?”

“Shortly. The fresh air is delightful. It’s rather stuffy inside. I didn’t know Edward smoked cigars.”

“Father’s fault,” Nicole replied. “I do sometimes feel Edward follows rather than leads. Whatever father does he seems to think he should. You know my parents were engaged on the same day Edward chose.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. That’s rather romantic.”

“Perhaps. Wynonna will be good for him. She’s intelligent, knows her own mind and her own heart. Like you.”

Waverly heard the words, knowing Wynonna was as much as, if not brighter, knowing she didn’t feel the same way about education, or intelligence, choosing instead a path Waverly was beginning to realise would not satisfy her. As she suspected did not interest Nicole.

“Do you…have you…”

“Marriage,” Nicole interrupted, anticipating Waverly. “I am already married. Remember.”

Waverly felt a stab to the heart. “Oh, I didn’t know. To whom?”

“To you, silly. Now, we really should go in, or father will wonder why we missed his excellent speech. Come.”

Nicole held out her hand, Waverly taking it, knowing Nicole was teasing her once more about them being married. She listened as Nicole’s father sang the praises of his soon-to-be daughter-in-law, how he had instructed Edward to love and cherish her as he had done all these years his own wife, receiving a hearty cheer from all those gathered. He wished them both well and said he expected lots of grandchildren to carry on the Haught name, Waverly looking over at Wynonna who was now blushing, Edward’s hand touching her arm, a cigar in the other, Wynonna smiling at him.

Waverly could see how happy her sister looked. How marriage to Edward was the choice she had made freely and willingly, happy to accept society’s expectations without question, happy to be someone’s wife, happy to provide children, happy to do what she was told, to a degree. This was Wynonna, afterall. And, in that moment she decided that would never be her path. 

Two different paths. Two different lives. Two different desires.

She knew where her heart lay, knew she needed to find those who looked beyond the cosy, cosseted, comfortable existence that led in only one direction. Marriage. She wanted more, so much more. She wanted to go where she liked, think what she wanted to think, not be someone’s doll. Not be someone’s someone to come home to. 

And, the person who had awoken all these desires was standing next to her, laughing at her father’s bad humour, enjoying the moment of their two families uniting. And, she knew. She knew.

Nicole turned to her, eyes dancing with a new light. “We are sisters now. How wonderful. You must come visit me in Cambridge.”

“I will,” Waverly replied. 

Nicole’s mother waved from across the room, beckoning Nicole. As she moved through the crowd, Waverly felt a jolt through her body she couldn’t explain. _Why do you scare me?_ she thought. _Are you my pirate, or are you something more? Something dangerous. Drawing me into that cave of yours. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French phrases: passez le beurre, s'il vous plait = pass the butter, please; quoi = what; rien = nothing.
> 
> Faire la bise: Cheek kissing in France is serious business (or was, before Covid-19?). There are polite ways to kiss someone on each cheek. It's an air kiss, so lips shouldn't touch the cheek, nor should there be any sound other than that made by the lips. 
> 
> Terms of endearment: I struggled with this, but knew what I wanted to convey. Nicknames/names we call people as a term of endearment are peppered throughout this story, (Red, Wiggle, etc), to lend that extra layer of familarity. I researched lots of French terms of endearment (yes, I'm a researcher, that's what I do for entertainment...!), and really liked Nicole's nickname given to her by her friends. I will say now, pet names are like everything, might be in fashion, or defintely not something you'd say to someone without offending. Ma puce, my flea, is one of those. 
> 
> Again, calling someone ma poupee - my doll, is either right or wrong. It's considered a cute term for very young girls, but in French society might be considered too silly for someone Waverly's age when Nicole calls her this. 
> 
> The Eiffel Tower: this iconic monument in Paris was completed in 1889, taking only 22 months to complete. Initially criticised for being an eyesore, it came to be a structure known throughout the world, symbolising how we can rise above our earthly confines through engineering and determination.


	11. the Progressives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly hasn't heard from Nicole in a while...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is where the fun starts...!
> 
> Huge apologies in advance to history buffs if I've fudged up on precise details. I'm hoping given the date this story is set it 'kind of' fits where I've wanted this story to go. For anyone who knows more about the real people I introduce, feel free to correct/add. I think I'm brave enough to handle comments if anyone disagrees (but, be gentle...!).
> 
> FYI: Edward uses the phrase 'rum fellows,' which means odd, or strange.
> 
> Anyway, moving on...
> 
> .

Waverly did not see much of Nicole during her first year at Cambridge. They continued to correspond, but Waverly could tell, from the contents of her letters, Nicole wanted to move with a different set, a progressive group of so-called intellectuals, philosophers, artists and writers who appealed to Nicole’s lust for all things new and exciting. She wrote of her mind having been opened by her new friends, careful not to give too much away, knowing the dangers of saying more than was necessary, with the possibility, the danger of her letters being read by those who might view her as a poor role model. Oh, but she had so much to tell Waverly.

If she wasn’t studying at Cambridge she could be found in London, mixing with those who gravitated to Bloomsbury, a close-knit community, those who pushed the boundaries, those who discussed new concepts between themselves of how society might be, those who swapped lovers as freely as they swapped ideas. Behind closed doors, where the prying eyes and ears of the general public could not see or hear. 

Waverly did her best to ask questions in her letters that might entice Nicole to respond. She would wait weeks for a response, only to find her questions largely ignored, or addressed in a way to suggest they were so far beneath Nicole's intellectual capacity it was not worth bothering with a full and complete answer. Waverly felt shunned, cast aside, a friendship with someone she admired, looked up to, now treated so frivolously. Carelessly, as if it no longer mattered. Then the letters stopped. 

It was Edward who informed her Nicole was staying in Paris with an artist. He was visiting with a heavily pregnant Wynonna, who spent the entire time moaning at how uncomfortable she felt, Edward doing his best to help, Wynonna eventually deciding she would lie down to ease the twinges in her back. Edward stood by the window in the drawing room, lighting a cigar, pulling on it a few times.

“How long has she been abroad?” Waverly asked, putting down the book she no longer was interested in. “She said nothing in her letters.”

“A few months. She intends to finish her course, as far as I am aware. Although, she seems distracted. I blame the circle of friends she has formed through Cambridge. Father’s not at all happy, nor mother. All rather rum if you ask me. And, this Dora she’s staying with.”

“Is she happy?”

Edward turned from the window, gazing down at Waverly. “I believe so. She appeared to be when I last saw her. She was off to see Lady Ottoline speak at some institute or other in London, the name of which escapes me.”

“She hasn’t replied to my last letter.”

“I will send you her new address,” Edward offered. “It is unlike Red not to reply. Frightfully bad manners if she has done such a thing. I will mention it in my letter to her.”

“No. I…I don’t want to bother her if she is busy with other matters.”

“No one is ever too busy to write a letter. It is courtesy to respond. She has a tendency to disappoint lately. Again, I blame those she has chosen to associate with. Rum fellows.”

Waverly wasn’t sure what Edward meant, deciding it best not to push for an explanation of why he thought the people Nicole was involved with were not suitable, in his opinion. Her mother rushed in, looking flustered, grabbing Edward’s arm, saying something to him quietly, his expression changing to one of concern.

“What is it?” Waverly asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I believe it’s Wynonna’s time. I’ve sent for the doctor. I had a feeling she was near. Oh dear, would you mind sitting with her for a while, she’s asking for you.”

Thoughts of Nicole were pushed to the back of her mind as she comforted her sister. When the baby finally arrived everyone rejoiced at the new addition to the family. A beautiful baby girl, a healthy weight with a mop of dark hair like her mother’s and the most exquisite long eyelashes Waverly had ever seen. Holding her in her arms, her love for her tiny niece was unbounded, whispering to her she would play dolls and anything she wanted to make her happy.

She had almost forgotten her conversation with Edward when he presented her with Nicole’s address a few days later, saying he had written to his sister to let her know of the baby’s arrival and her obligation to reply to Waverly’s letter. Waverly thanked him, feeling guilty at having mentioned it, even though it was four letters that had gone without reply. She guessed the reason might lay in the fact Nicole currently was not at the address in Cambridge to which she had been sending her correspondence. 

She sat at the writing desk in the drawing room, an ink pen in her hand ready to write to Nicole, no longer knowing what to say. The blank page stared up at her, waiting to be filled yet she could not think of a single word to write. Even the news of the baby seemed trivial and unimportant, Edward’s words returning. Those rum fellows. _Who are they?_ she thought. _Who is this Dora she is with? And, who is Lady Ottoline?_

Her mother was in the garden room, working on a new embroidery. Waverly sat beside her watching her place delicate stitches on the cloth, a gift for Wynonna to celebrate the birth of the baby. “Mama, have you heard of someone by the name of Lady Ottoline?” she asked.

Her mother stopped what she was doing, studying Waverly’s face. “Why?”

“Only, Edward mentioned her. I wondered if you knew who she is.”

“I have heard of her. I’m surprised Edward mentioning her. From what I hear she’s…her lifestyle would not be someone…”

Waverly could tell her mother was struggling to explain what she knew of this Ottoline person. And, through that she was beginning to understand why Edward considered Nicole’s new friends to be strange and unusual. Exotic, clearly too exotic for her mother to be able to describe them to her. 

How could her mother describe Lady Ottoline, without also having to explain what she stood for, what she rejected in society. Known to be involved with a group of like-minded idealists, their unconventional personalities and lifestyle attracting those who felt a natural kinship. Those from wealthy backgrounds, like hers and Nicole’s, giving them advantages in society as well as an air of confidence, believing they could say and do as they pleased. Linked by a spirit of rebellion against unnecessary conventions, restraints and double standards. Their desire for freedom paramount, in order to be able to develop their own ideas and ways of being in the world, holding love, aesthetic experience and knowledge to be life’s highest priorities.

Waverly returned to the writing desk, picking up the pen once more, dipping it in the bottle of black ink. She needed Nicole to explain her new life, her new interests, her new friends. More than anything, she wanted to be a part of this new life, fearful of not getting a response, fearful Nicole no longer needed her in her life, fearful she had lost her forever. Her questions were clear, hoping if not to get answers, Nicole would at least have the courtesy to reply.

She waited. A week went by, then two, three. Her heart sank every time she sifted through the pile of letters on the stand in the hall, none addressed to her. She was getting ready to ride one morning when a hand-delivered letter arrived, Waverly recognising the writing immediately. Her heart beat faster as she returned to her bedroom, opening the envelope carefully, two sheets of paper with writing on both sides. An address she did not recognise was embossed on the top of the first sheet, Waverly making a mental note for future correspondence. 

Nicole apologised for not responding to her letters, explaining she had not received them as Waverly suspected. She said she was staying with a friend in London, a friend of a friend, no name mentioned, that her studies were going well and she would be returning to Girton College shortly to continue her course. She made no mention of Paris, or Dora, or, Ottoline, or any other rum fellow. She said she was overjoyed at the news of the baby, that she would be visiting Edward a week on Friday suggesting they might meet at her brother’s house. 

Waverly rushed downstairs, nearly knocking over one of the housemaids emerging from a room she had just cleaned. She burst into the room where her mother was still working on the embroidery. “May I visit Wynonna and Edward next Friday? Nicole says she will be there and has asked me to visit at the same time.”

“That’s rather a lot of visitors,” her mother replied. “Wynonna is still tired looking after Alice. Perhaps another time.”

“Please. I haven’t seen the baby in a while. And…”

“As long as you promise not to distress Wynonna. Or, the baby.”

“I won’t. I promise. Thank you. Thank you. I’m going riding.”

Waverly trotted through Green Park, the happiest she had been in months. The thought of seeing Nicole again enough to keep her going despite not getting any answers to her questions. None of that mattered. She would see Nicole.

The day finally arrived, Waverly having found it difficult to sleep, or decide which dress to wear, eventually choosing the one she thought made her look the most mature. Hair tied back, coat and hat on, she left the house, entering the waiting carriage on her way to see Nicole. As she drew up outside Edward’s house, she saw another carriage waiting hoping beyond hope it was Nicole’s. The housekeeper answered the door, letting her in, leading the way to the parlour room where Wynonna was seated with Alice.

Waverly greeted her sister, followed by a long cuddle of the baby, wondering where Edward was and Nicole. “Edward’s giving her a tour of the house,” Wynonna said, seeing Waverly’s anxious face. “She asked if you were coming.”

Waverly’s cheeks reddened, partly through hearing Nicole asking after her, partly through Wynonna guessing she wasn’t visiting solely to see her and the baby. The door opened, Edward striding in talking about renovations he had in mind, Nicole following. Her eyes caught Waverly’s, stopping momentarily to take her in, her features softening. Waverly wanted to run and hug her absent friend, tell her she had been missed, tell her she was thinking of going to the same college in Cambridge when she was old enough, tell her she worshipped her.

She remained silent, her feet locked to the floor, unable to pull her eyes away. More beautiful than she remembered, more sophisticated, her presence filling the room, the manner in which she carried herself even more assured, if that was even possible. _I don’t know what to say,_ she thought. _I have so many questions, but I’m too afraid to speak. I want to leave, before I embarrass myself. She’s prettier. The way she has her hair. I’m staring. Stop staring. Oh no, she’s coming over._

“Hello my dear, did you miss me?”

Waverly nodded, tongue-tied, holding out her hand, feeling Nicole’s skin against hers. She could hear baby Alice gurgling, Wynonna soothing her, Edward suggesting they have tea. “You’ll need to let go of my hand,” Nicole said, after a few moments. 

“Sorry, I…”

Nicole took her in. “You’ve grown since I last saw you. Becoming a woman.”

“I’m nearly fourteen.”

“Fourteen,” Nicole repeated. “We must celebrate. I hear you’re quite accomplished at the piano. And, your French is impeccable.”

“I’m…I’m not as good as you,” Waverly stuttered, lowering her gaze, reluctant to let go of Nicole’s hand. “I’ll never be as good as you.”

Nicole extracted her hand. “Nonsense. I am merely older that’s all. I would love to hear you play some time. Perhaps you might visit while I’m in London.”

“Yes, I’d love to,” Wynonna interrupted. “Edward says your friends are rather wild. That’s so you Red. So, so you. I hope you won’t lead Waverly astray.”

“I never said wild,” Edward corrected. “I merely said…where’s that tea?”

“No, I agree. They are wild, and creative, and intellectually stimulating. Also kind and attentive. I found them at a time when I contemplated giving up Cambridge thinking it held nothing of interest.”

“You were going to leave Cambridge?” Waverly asked incredulously. “But, I thought you liked Cambridge. You said in your letters you were glad you chose Girton.”

“I do. And, I was. Sadly those who are there with me are somewhat dull and dry in their attitudes. Shae introduced me to Otty and I’m so glad she did. I would have died of boredom otherwise.”

Waverly tried to stop herself, but a small snort drew Nicole’s attention. “I’m so sorry. I could never imagine you being bored.”

“I bore easily,” she replied. “That has always been my weakness. I truly believe that is why I created such vivid fantasy worlds as a child. The pirate, the explorer. Did you know I once got lost in the woods at Wattlestone for two days? Mother was frantic with worry, all the servants looking for me. Father was even prepared to drain the pond, thinking I’d somehow fallen in. Edward will confirm.”

“Where were you?” Waverly asked, eyes wide in anticipation, sucked into Nicole’s story willingly.

“The old gamekeeper’s shed. Crawled in when it started to rain, fell asleep, decided I would stay until my provisions ran out. Four biscuits and an apple. I would have stayed longer if I’d had more biscuits with me.”

“Oh Red. I’ve missed you,” Waverly said. 

“And, I you. You must forgive me. I have another engagement I must attend. I will send you an invitation to lunch with Jinny and I soon.”

She rose, extending her hand once more, Waverly taking it, almost wanting to kiss it. She watched as she left the room, Edward following her out, a silence descending, apart from baby Alice’s gurgling. 

“I never said her friends were wild,” Edward insisted, returning to the room. “Unusual, perhaps. At least she’s not with that Dora anymore.”

Wynonna was making eyes at Edward to tell him to remain quiet on matters relating to Dora. Waverly could see Edward not understanding, continuing with his train of thought. “I mean, she’s not even an artist. And, without money. I do believe Red was mistaken in her affections.”

“Shall we have tea,” Wynonna interrupted, handing the baby to Edward, who had no idea what to do with her, holding her like a damp cloth away from his knees.

“Let me hold her,” Waverly offered, seeing how awkward he looked. Alice stared up into her eyes, cooing at her aunty. Waverly had so many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Towards the end of the 19th century, Oxford and Cambridge universities were opening up to women. Cambridge was the first to offer a female-only college, namely Girton established in 1869, followed by Oxford (Lady Margaret Hall) in 1878. Those attending could study to degree level, but were not awarded a degree at the end. The first degree awarded to a woman by Oxford was in 1920, Cambridge 1948..!
> 
> The only way women could receive their Oxford/Cambridge qualification was by going to Ireland to collect it. Between 1904 and 1907 some 700 women got on steamboats to physically collect their degrees from Trinity College Dublin. 
> 
> The group of friends Nicole fell in with at Cambridge are what I'd like to think of as the forerunners of the Bloomsbury Group, a collection of intellectuals who founded private clubs in 1905 to discuss/argue their ideas on a more progessive society. Mostly wealthy idealists, bored with life who fed off each other's passions. Known for their bed-hopping and same-sex relationships.
> 
> Lady Ottoline Morrell: a patron of the Bloomsbury Group, although not listed as being part of the group.
> 
> Dora Carrington: an artist, loosely associated with the Bloomsbury Group. Possibly a love interest of Ottoline.
> 
> Virginia Woolf (Jinny): involved with the Bloomsbury Group through her sister, Vanessa Bell and her brothers. Virginia Woolf had an open marriage with her husband and later in life an affair with Vita Sackville-West. It is that relationship which drew me to thinking about the possiblity of how Nicole's own sexual awakening first occurred. And, well why not with Virginia Woolf...!
> 
> Vita and Virginia film trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xv4LGfH5MWw  
> What was the Bloomsbury Group: https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/features/what-was-the-bloomsbury-group


	12. the Preference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does everyone want to keep from Waverly...

Nicole’s lunch invitation arrived a few days later, the same address as the one embossed on the long letter Waverly received. Her mother suggested she might accompany, Waverly convincing her otherwise. She wanted Nicole to herself. She hoped their meeting would offer more insight into her exotic, ‘wild’ friends, and why everyone seemed at a loss to be able to explain them. To her, at least. Even Wynonna would not say any more about that Dora woman, as she called her, which made it all the more important to ask Nicole directly. 

Their briefest of reunion at her sister’s house revealed how much Nicole had changed. She felt younger in her presence. So much younger. Too young perhaps for someone as sophisticated as Nicole to want to associate with now she had her ‘wild’ friends. It was different with her sisters. She had a bond with them outside of age. Even with Nicole suggesting they were sisters, they were not. Not in the same way. She understood that, and it saddened her. _Perhaps our friendship is coming to an end,_ she thought, as the carriage drew near to the house where Nicole was residing. _Perhaps I’m too young for her. Or, not interesting enough. I wish I was older. I wish I could be wild enough for her to like me, care for me as she once did._

A housekeeper guided her to the parlour, considerably smaller than the one in her own house and that of Wynonna and Edward’s. She studied the few ornaments on the mantelpiece, listening for any sound of Nicole. The ticking of the carriage clock marked the passing of time, a familiar sound in an unfamiliar house where her friend, her pirate, her Red lived and entertained. The sudden opening of the door startled her, turning to see Nicole enter, beautifully dressed, her hair up in a style accentuating her features. 

She approached, holding out her hand, Waverly doing the same, only to be pulled towards Nicole’s body, who kissed her on both cheeks. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay longer at Edward’s,” she began. “Jinny wanted me to attend some tedious lecture with her. The baby is delightful. So like Wynonna, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” she replied, still trying to process new Nicole.

Nicole invited her to sit. “How are your studies? I want to hear all about them.”

“I have two new tutors. I’m hoping to attend Girton, like you.”

Nicole appeared distracted, half-listening to Waverly’s response, failing to acknowledge the similar path Waverly had chosen. “I’m glad. I do so want you to meet Jinny. She promised to be here. So forgetful.”

“Are all your friends like Jinny?” Waverly asked. “Edward and mama wouldn’t tell me much. Who’s Dora?”

Nicole’s body tensed at the mention of that name. “A friend,” she replied, hesitantly. “A close friend. How do you know? Edward, or Wynonna I suspect.”

“Edward. Wynonna wouldn’t tell me anything about her. He said you went to Paris to be with her. Said she’s an artist.”

“Of sorts. Exceptional, without recognition, as is the way for women sadly. I posed for her once. That is how we met. Otty was accommodating, as always, although it broke her heart.”

“Mama wouldn’t tell me about Otty.”

“Your mother is wise not to fill your head with nonsense. Where is Jinny?”

“Why won’t anyone tell me?” Waverly asked. “I feel everyone is treating me like a child. Too young to understand. I’m not a child Nicole.”

“Oh Wiggle, forgive me. I know you’re not a child. In time you will know. For now, it is in your best interests if you remain ignorant of such knowledge. Until…”

The door swung open, startling Waverly again, a tall, slender woman drifting in as if carried on a cloud. Her movements elegant, her dress sense less so, in sharp contrast to Nicole. “There you are, at last,” Nicole said. “I wondered whether you might have forgotten. Jinny this is Waverly. My young friend whom I mentioned.”

The woman stopped abruptly, peering down at Waverly seated near the window, taking her in. “Oh my, she’s more divine than you described. An angel come to visit and so pretty. I most certainly approve.”

She approached, holding out her hand. “Virginia. You may call me Jinny. You must tell me all about Red. I’m longing to hear what she was like as a child.”

Waverly took her hand, remembering to let go. “I…she’s…she scares me.”

Virginia pondered the words for a moment, absorbing their meaning, extracting their essence, their richness. “Is that not love in its entirety?”

Waverly watched Virginia approach Nicole, tenderly placing a hand on her arm, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. “As you scare me, my wonderful darling. I have some letters I must attend to. Do let me know when lunch is served. May I suggest the garden, the weather is divine.”

Nicole waited for Virginia to leave before continuing their conversation. “Virginia is hoping to attend Oxford. I was thinking of changing, but she insists I remain at Girton. I’m not sure I can survive without her.”

Waverly stared at Nicole, a new understanding dawning, knowing what she witnessed was not what she had expected, no longer sure what question needed to be asked, if there was even a question to be asked anymore. No words. She had no words. She knew Nicole was different to her sisters, different from anyone she knew, and yet the reality of her relationship, if that’s what it was with Virginia, shocked her, excited her, scared her more than anything Nicole had ever done before. 

“How is Wynonna? Edward looks tired. Jinny has yet to meet Alice. My brother is being such a bore about it. Like father.”

“Why?”

Nicole contemplated the question, not knowing whether to state the obvious, or continue to dance around the subject. “He…they disapprove. Mother is a little more receptive. But then, she would be.”

“Why?” Waverly repeated.

Nicole gave her a knowing look. “Because, she understands. As your mother understands.”

“But, I don’t understand,” was all she could say.

“In time. Now, let’s find Jinny. She’ll scold me if she misses lunch.”

“No,” Waverly replied, the word jumping from her mouth. “Please, don’t keep secrets. Don’t tell me something and not tell me its meaning. It’s cruel.”

“Oh Wiggle, that’s not my intention. It’s simply a case of when is the right time. And, I believe now is not the right time.”

“That you and Jinny are together. I have eyes Nicole. I’m not blind. I know what you are.”

“And, does that scare you?”

“No. Yes, of course it scares me. But, I’m more scared of losing you as a friend. And, I’m losing you as a friend, I can feel it. I can feel you pushing me away. Shutting me out of your life, as if I’ve done something wrong. I’m not wild like your friends. I can’t be like them, but I thought…I hoped…”

“No, no, I’m not pushing you away,” she replied, realising how her actions were being interpreted. “I was scared you would reject me if you knew. I’m surprised you were allowed to visit me here, with Jinny.”

“Mama wanted to come. I told her not to. I wanted to be with you. Why didn’t you answer my questions in my letter?”

“Because. Because, I didn’t want my life writ large where others might misinterpret my words.”

“I would never do that. You know I’d never do that.”

“Not you. I fear our time together going forward will be limited, put under more scrutiny, given who I am, what I’ve chosen for my life. I merely want to protect you. I don’t want to lose our friendship. I adore you, as Jinny so perceptively does. She’s such a good judge of character.”

Waverly felt her emotions rising to the surface, desperately trying to hold them back. “I don’t want to lose you. Red, I can’t lose you. You mean everything to me. Everything. A life without you is meaningless.”

“Oh Wiggle, I’ll do my best. I really will, but society is not always kind to those who choose a different path.”

“I don’t care about society,” Waverly replied, a few tears trickling down her face. “To hell with society. To hell with people’s judgments.”

“Waverly Earp!” Nicole exclaimed, a grin forming. “Such passion. You do have a wild side afterall. I’m impressed.”

“You bring out the worst in me. Red, please, please don’t abandon me. I beg you. The thought of not seeing you again.”

“I won’t. I promise. But, we must be careful. I would suggest you say little of our discussion. It’s for the best.”

Waverly understood, as she understood how her life was expected to be if others decided it for her. “Mama wants me to spend time with the Nedleys. I think she’s keen for me to meet someone like Edward. I don’t want that. I’m not like Wynonna, or Willa. I don’t want to be trapped in a house forever.”

Nicole took her hand. “I understand. I too have had introductions in the hope I might change my mind. Or, be persuaded. You must do what is right for you. What is in your heart. Now, shall we have lunch?”

“Do you love her?” Waverly asked, as Nicole stood.

She turned, gazing back at her young friend. “Very much.”

Lunch in the garden was pleasant. Virginia opened a bottle of champagne, offering a glass to Waverly. They discussed literature, politics, religion, women’s place in society, women’s role in shaping the future of society. Waverly didn’t know if it was the champagne, or the heady conversation, leaving in a blissful haze shortly after three, returning home, more determined to follow in Nicole’s footsteps.

Her mother wanted to know all about her visit, Waverly providing just enough information she hoped to allay her mother’s concerns, careful not to say too much about Nicole’s relationship with Virginia. She had watched them at lunch, Virginia the more tactile, fawning over her Red, gazing into her eyes, Nicole clearly as besotted. To be allowed to see her so happy, so relaxed in the company of another was reassuring. She felt accepted, part of the secret, part of a life Nicole wanted.

Did she want that for herself? Waverly couldn’t be sure. The question had never presented itself in this way before. Of course she had had childish fantasies of living in a castle with Nicole, with knights protecting them, eating jelly. Jelly, red jelly, only jelly. She shuddered at how childish it all seemed now. And yet, her relationship with Nicole remained no more than a childish connection to the past. 

She didn’t hate Virginia. She could see the good she was doing in Nicole’s life. At the same time, she didn’t like her. Because she was the one with her Red. The one Red was devoted to, wanted to be with most in this world. Even the thought of her calling her Red irritated. Edward continued to use it, but that was fine, and Wynonna occasionally. But, not Virginia, this Jinny, who had Nicole’s heart. 

Virginia had no right, no claim over that name. She had not met Red the pirate. She had not survived near drowning with her Red, the pirate who saved her from the dragon. She was the one who had been given a pirate doll by her Red. Not this Jinny person. And, therein lay the rub. She was Nicole’s childhood friend, not her lover. And, that scared her.

There were no more reunions that year. Letters exchanged infrequently, always cordial, always lacking in detail that might cause offence. Waverly was introduced to the Nedleys. Three older boys and a girl, Christine, similar in age to Nicole and Wynonna, a friendship forming through a mutual love of riding. They would spend every Wednesday morning trotting through Hyde Park, Waverly taking the lead wanting to go faster, Christine holding back given she was the less adventurous of the two. She was young for her age, having been home-schooled, lacking Nicole’s worldliness, but she was sweet and accepting, liked by Waverly’s mother who considered her a suitable companion.

Waverly rarely mentioned Nicole to her, preferring to keep that friendship distinct. She could imagine Nicole’s face if she ever met Christine, rolling her eyes, making some drole comment only they would understand. Some nights she would lie in bed, recalling the moment she witnessed Nicole embrace another in her presence. The look in her eyes as Virginia approached, her head leaning back slightly, accepting her against her lips. The lingering look afterwards, as if wanting it to last forever, to not have to part. 

She would let her fingers touch her own lips, running them across her closed mouth, feeling the light sensation. _What is it like?_ she thought. _To have lips touching mine. To have that pressure of someone against me. To have someone so close. To have them against my skin. I wonder how Nicole kisses. Is it soft? Or rough, like a pirate, stealing something precious._

Some nights she dreamt of Nicole, dressed as a pirate, with a patch over one eye, stealing into her bedroom, waking her roughly to tell her she had a secret. Telling her she was the only one she cared for, the only one she ever wanted, that she would be hers forever. Lips meeting, Waverly feeling a surge of electricity through her body, a rush to her core as she drank in her pirate, her Red. The desire to be with her stronger than she had ever felt before. Burning into her, leaving her restless, unsatisfied. She wanted her pirate.

Alice was being fussy when she arrived. Wynonna could do nothing to pacify, handing her to Waverly, who instantly calmed the child with her soothing words and smiles. “If I’d known what motherhood was like,” Wynonna said, taking a sip of tea. “I adore her, but she can be spirited. Edward wants another.”

“She’s tired, I think, or hungry. Or, both.”

“Mother Waverly,” Wynonna teased. “So, the Nedleys. I hear mother is trying to ingratiate you into their family.”

Waverly rolled her eyes. “The boys are tedious. Not like Edward. Christine is sweet. A little too sweet for my taste. No spirit.”

“Unlike Nicole,” Wynonna replied. “I’m assuming everyone is compared to Red.”

Waverly shifted in her seat. “You and I both know Nicole is different. Sui generis.”

“Oh, Latin now. Mother mentioned you’re thinking of going to university. Like Nicole.”

“Don’t say it like that. Like Nicole. That’s not fair. I choose to go because…I choose to go because I choose to go. As you chose this.”

“This, meaning a grizzly baby and a grumpy husband.”

“Precisely. No, sorry, I didn’t mean that. Alice and Edward are wonderful, but I need…I want. I don’t know what I want, but…”

“I understand,” Wynonna replied. “Really. I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parlour room in a Victorian house was the best room. The one where guests were received and entertained. Where you showed off your status and your wealth. Today, it's called the front room. 
> 
> FYI: the music for the film Vita & Virginia was composed by Phoebe Waller-Bridge's sister, Isobel, who used the rhythm of Elizabeth Debicki’s actual heartbeat to score the film. Phoebe Waller-Bridge (Fleabag, Killing Eve, Bond).


	13. the Pearls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is Nicole really with...

A new century approached. Waverly would attend her first ball with her parents, to be held in a venue on Northumberland Avenue, London, her close friend Isobel attending too. A chance to mix with aristocracy and the elite, where wealth was very much on display. The two friends talked for months about which dress each would wear, how they would have their hair, who might be attending. It was rumoured the Prince of Wales had accepted an invitation, creating even more of a ripple of excitement.

Mama would loan her a pearl necklace to show off her new dress, sky blue, with an open neckline revealing her shoulders. Wynonna and Edward were hoping to attend, although with Wynonna pregnant once more, she was not entirely sure. She heard through Wynonna that Nicole might make an appearance. Edward had been in contact with his sister, suggesting on this occasion she not bring Virginia, Nicole replying it was none of his business, their relationship having become strained in recent months, Edward doing his best to remain civil, ever the diplomat. 

Wynonna offered to speak with Nicole to clear the air. They met for afternoon tea once, Nicole irritable, upset at her brother’s lack of understanding. Wynonna reassured her they both understood, that they simply were looking out for her, that they didn’t want Nicole doing something, bringing someone, who might bring too much attention to her lifestyle and that they were there for her should she need them. She thanked Wynonna, knowing she meant well, knowing she would handle her life in whatever way she chose. 

The evening of the ball, the house was alive with servants rushing back and forth with ironed dresses, and starched shirts, and polished shoes. Waverly sat at her dressing table admiring her mother’s necklace, checking the clasp at the back was secure. She hoped she would see Nicole, hoped to have an opportunity to speak with her, hoped to show her she was not a child anymore. 

Isobel waved at her enthusiastically as she entered the impressively large ballroom, her mother scolding her for drawing unnecessary attention to herself. “Isn’t this the most exciting thing,” she said, as Waverly approached. “I do hope we get to see the prince. He’s rumoured to be dropping by.”

Waverly smiled, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of Nicole. She spotted Edward and Wynonna with Edward’s parents, taking Isobel by the arm, dragging her over to say hello. “How are you feeling? You look lovely, by the way.”

“So do you my petal. Uncomfortable. This dress is too tight and my feet are aching already. I only hope the baby doesn’t decide to make an appearance this evening in front of everyone.”

Waverly giggled. “You delivering a baby in front of the prince would certainly draw everyone’s attention.” She paused, wanting to ask, knowing the mention of Nicole’s name would be met with eye rolling from Wynonna. 

“Before you ask” Wynonna said, guessing what was on Waverly’s mind. “Yes, she’s here. Not with that Virginia person, thankfully. Although, I wouldn’t have put it past Nicole to bring that woman to such an event. She’s with Lord Asquith’s son. Rather dashing I might add.”

“Oh, I see,” Waverly replied, trying not to give too much away. “I’d better return to mama. Tell Edward I expect a dance.”

The girls took their time to return to their parents, Isobel being her delightfully naughty self, poking fun at the more rotund guests, commenting where buttons strained on their clothing. Suddenly, in the middle of her friend’s wickedly cruel observations, Waverly spotted her. More beautiful than ever, a dazzling diamond necklace setting off the most exquisite ruby-red ballgown. Every muscle in her body froze, gazing at the vision moving closer, an extremely good-looking gentleman by her side, escorting her through the gathering. Isobel felt the pull on her arm, observing Waverly’s shocked face, then her eyes, then the person at whom she was staring intently.

“Oh my, that’s Charles Asquith,” Isobel said. “I’d heard he was handsome. And, isn’t that Nicole Haught? I can see why he chose her. They outshine everyone here.”

“I knew her,” Waverly replied, quietly, her eyes remaining fixed on Nicole. “We were childhood friends.”

“You must introduce me,” Isobel said. “They say she’s enormous fun, if a little scandalous. There’s a rumour she has less-than-desirable friends. Mother says they’re those liberal types. Not to be trusted.”

“She is fun. Enormous fun. Or, was. I hardly see her now.”

“I would have loved to have been her friend. But, I’m stuck with you,” Isobel teased, accepting Waverly’s playful pinch on her arm with good grace.

“The first time I met her she frightened me,” Waverly whispered to Isobel. “It has been the same ever since.”

“She has an air about her,” Isobel observed. “I think she would scare me too. She carries herself differently. Look at all the men admiring her. Oh to have that effect. To have men devour me with their eyes the way they do your friend.”

“Perhaps,” Waverly replied. “She has a wild side.”

“But, of course. That’s why they want her. Moths to a flame. There’s certainly something wild about her. Something untamed, trapped within her soul, seeking release.” 

Waverly giggled. “Issy, you read far too many romance novels for your own good.” 

“They say she’s declined three marriage proposals. Her mother is at her wits’ end. Oh, to have so many proposals. And then, to have my heart stolen by a rogue, who truly loved me. Who told me my eyes sparkled like…”

“Issy stop. You and I both know you’re as attractive, if not more so. You merely like the dramatic. And, it’s not quantity. It’s quality that counts. One proposal is more than enough. If it’s the right person.”

Waverly watched as the familiar figure approached. _You scare me,_ she thought, _and excite me at the same time. You are dangerous, with those eyes of yours. You are dangerous and delicious. And deadly. And, you will be the death of me Nicole Haught._

“Hello my dear, did you miss me?”

“Of course,” Waverly replied, accepting Nicole’s kisses on her cheeks. “This is my good friend Isobel Fitz-Lloyd Lyons.” 

Nicole held out her hand, Waverly noticing Isobel lost for words for the first time that evening. “How are you keeping?” Waverly asked. “I wrote to you, but you didn’t reply.”

“Where?” Nicole asked, matter-of-factly. “I move around.”

“Jinny’s.”

“I haven’t seen Jinny in weeks. All frightfully tedious. May I introduce Charles. He’s rather good fun and not a bore, like Jinny.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I thought she was charming. Where are you now?”

“Living? I float between Wattlestone and Cambridge. You must come visit. Do forgive me, Charles wants to circulate. I think he’s enjoying all the attention we’re receiving. I’ll write. Promise.”

Waverly watched as Nicole disappeared, Isobel tugging on her arm. “She’s beautiful, but she knows it. And, I agree. Scary. Come, let’s see if father will allow us to try champagne. It will be my first time.”

It would not be Waverly’s first time trying champagne. She had enjoyed its taste when she visited Nicole for lunch, wondering what was going on between her and this Charles, what had gone wrong between her and that Virginia. _Always the tease,_ she thought. _Never revealing more than she has to. Keeping me dangling._ It was as though Nicole liked to give out just enough information about her life, without ever saying too much in case that information was used against her.

Wynonna was standing beside their mother on her return, still looking uncomfortable, Edward searching for a chair. “Well, what do you think of Charles?” she asked, rubbing her belly. “He’s a little too good looking, don’t you think.”

“She’s no longer with Jinny,” Waverly replied. “Why didn’t you tell me? And, why didn’t you tell me she’s moved. Again.”

“I would believe half of what Nicole says,” Wynonna replied. “And, half of that again.”

“What does that mean?” Waverly snapped. “Sorry, only is she? Or, isn’t she?”

“I’d take stab at isn’t, given she’s engaged to Charles. But, then who knows. Nicole does whatever she wants.”

Edward returned with a chair, looking flustered. “Why didn’t you tell me Nicole was engaged to Charles?” Waverly demanded. “Why does everyone keep secrets from me?”

Edward looked at Wynonna for support, Wynonna shrugging to say this was now his baby to handle. “I…Nicole didn’t want it made public. I’m so sorry. For once she’s keeping her affairs out of the newspaper. There’s been so much gossip about her and that Virginia woman.”

“And, stop saying that Virginia woman,” Waverly replied. “She’s just Virginia.”

Waverly took Isobel’s arm, dragging her away from her own family, who didn’t seem in the slightest bit concerned at having kept it a secret Nicole was to be married to Charles.

A letter arrived a week later from Nicole to say she was staying at Wattlestone. She asked if she and her mother might like to visit, Waverly at first inclined to say no, given what she now knew. It pained her to think her once friend would not think it polite to even mention her engagement. Her mother received a similar invite from Nicole’s mother, insisting they travel together, keep each other company. 

The train journey was dismal. Monotonous stretches of countryside, bland sandwiches cook had packed for the trip, even the carriages were late arriving to collect them from the station. As much as she was looking forward to seeing Nicole, she no longer had the same hold over her life. 

Nicole’s mother met them at the entrance. She looked pale and tired, Waverly at first shocked to see her, knowing how vivacious she had been on previous occasions. Even her mother looked visibly upset on seeing her friend. The mothers hugged, Waverly’s mother taking her friend’s arm, leading her into the house. 

Nicole was nowhere to be seen, her mother explaining Nicole had returned to London and might join them in a few days. Waverly wandered the house, now absent of so many who brought it to life. Nicole’s father was in London, her brothers married, living their own lives elsewhere, Nicole somewhere other than here. It was her absence from the house that was the most striking. Her presence, her joie de vivre. Waverly had never noticed until now, how much life Nicole brought with her. To a room, to a home, to her. She missed her friend dearly, longed for the cavernous distance between them to reduce. 

She entered the nursery, sitting on the bed where so many memories were formed. A neat row of soldiers stood to attention on the floor, Waverly knowing the last fingers to touch them would have been Nicole’s. Instinctively she moved to their level, picking up two of the tin men, muskets at the ready, pretending to make them fight as she had seen Nicole do all those years ago and the dam burst, her emotions spilling out as she sat where Nicole would have sat all those years ago playing pretend soldiers. 

The gong sounded for dinner, Waverly making her way downstairs, a tiny tin soldier in her pocket. She watched her mother as they ate the first course, ever attentive of her friend, smiling at her, patting her hand. And, it dawned on her what Nicole had mentioned previously. What Nicole had alluded to, without ever saying. And, she saw it. She saw the love these two women had for each other. And, it no longer frightened her, or confused her. It filled her heart. That they had each other, no matter what.

At the end of the meal, Waverly asked if she might spend the night in the nursery. Her mother gave her a look to say it was impolite to ask such a thing, Nicole’s mother smiling, agreeing instantly, commenting it would be nice to have that room used once more. Waverly retired early, ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ borrowed from the family’s extensive library. She found herself drifting off, trying to focus on the words, her eyelids becoming heavy.

She had only been asleep a few minutes when the door crashed open, the book falling from her hands. “Hello Wiggle. Did you miss me?”

Startled, she opened her eyes, wondering where she was, wondering if she had heard the words uttered, wondering if she was dreaming. Nicole strolled in, drunk, a bottle of champagne in one hand, a glass in the other. “Mother’s furious with me,” she slurred. “I seem to disappoint everyone these days.”

“Hello Red,” Waverly replied, sitting up, collecting her thoughts. “How’s Charles?” 

“Charles is perfectly perfect,” Nicole replied, clearly not sober enough to say anything meaningful.

“And, Jinny?” Waverly asked. “How is she?”

Nicole plonked herself on the floor, narrowly missing her toy soldiers. “Perfectly imperfect. Infuriating. And perfect. But, she knows that.”

“And, you. How are you? Other than being drunk.”

“Perfectly pirating,” Nicole slurred, waving the champagne bottle in her hand, the contents of her glass spilling over the wooden floor, Nicole none the wiser.

“You’re drunk,” Waverly stated. “I’m not happy with you. Do you know that?”

Nicole thudded the bottle on the rug, taking a few moments to steady herself, followed by an attempt to place the glass down. She failed miserably, the contents cascading out over the floor, Nicole watching it with no idea what to do. Waverly observed, half in amusement, half in sadness. 

“I’m so tired,” Nicole said after a few moments. “May I sleep here tonight?”

“We are too big for that,” Waverly replied. 

Nicole lay on the floor, her eyes closing. “Then I shall lay here, at your feet. You know I love you, don’t you.”

Waverly knew. “Fine. My adorable drunk pirate. But, you are in so much trouble.”

She saw Nicole’s mouth trying to form a smile, the effects of too much champagne. She roused her, helping her up, helping her undress, watching her as she fell on the single bed filling its entire space. She pushed her over as much as she could, earning reluctant groans from Nicole. 

As she gazed at her sleeping pirate she was tempted to steal a kiss on those ruby-red lips. She couldn’t. She wasn’t the pirate. 

Nicole awoke to a hangover and an awkward situation, wondering why she was in bed with Waverly. 

“Good morning,” Waverly said, failing to hide her amusement at the arrangement.

“Not so loud,” Nicole replied, attempting to pull the pillow over her head. “So much pain.”

“I’m not surprised,” Waverly continued. “You were very drunk.”

“Sorry. Why are you here?”

“You invited us. Remember.”

“No, here. The nursery,” her voice hoarse, her head half under the pillow.

“Because. Why are you here?”

“Because.”

“So, I’m here because. And, you’re here because,” Waverly clarified. 

“That’s right. It’s my house. I can sleep where I like.”

“Is that so? Does that include with anyone you like.”


	14. the Parting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole cannot, or will not, face the truth that lies in her heart...

Waverly heard the groan from underneath the pillow. She eased herself out of the small space Nicole had allowed her in the bed, stretching, her neck muscles stiff from the awkward position she had been forced to sleep in most of the night. “Shall I ask cook if she has anything for that sore head of yours?”

“Please. Also, could you possibly turn off the sun for a few hours.”

Waverly smiled at the sight of Nicole sprawled in bed in her undergarments, bare arms the only visible skin, tempted to rush back to the bed and snuggle next to her, as she had done as a child. “Perhaps milk and biscuits. Mama can feed papa.”

“Ha ha. Too funny. Ouch. Less of your cheek young lady.”

Waverly grabbed her dressing gown from the back of a chair, pulling the thick curtains across the window, shutting out most of the light. She returned with a tray holding a large jug of water and a glass of cook’s hangover cure, the ingredients of which were a secret but apparently their combination created a miracle remedy for Nicole’s father and brothers when they over-indulged. “Cook suggests you have a salt bath,” Waverly announced, a little too loudly, as she placed the tray on the dressing table.

“Shush,” Nicole replied. “You’re shouting.”

“Here. Take this. Cook says it really does work.”

Nicole appeared from under the pillow, Waverly grinning at the sight of her Red. Hair dishevelled, drooping eyelids, dry lips. Even with such an appearance she still looked beautiful. She accepted the glass of whatever had been concocted, sniffing it, pretending to throw up, taking a sip. “Good God, she’s trying to kill me. I will die of whatever is in this before a hangover takes me off this mortal coil.”

“You’ve been around Jinny too long,” Waverly replied. “Speaking of which?”

“I’m far too ill to be questioned. And, it’s far too early for any interrogation. What does cook put in this?”

“Best you not know. I saw a few of the ingredients. And, when were you going to tell me about Charles?”

“I’m dying right before your very eyes and all you want to know is who I’m with.”

“Nicole Haught, give me a straight answer,” Waverly demanded, trying to keep a straight face.

“Why straight, when crooked is more fun.”

“Fine. Then don’t. I don’t care who you are with, or aren’t with. Or, might be with. It is none of my concern.”

Nicole handed an empty glass back, shuddering. “I’m now completely convinced cook hates me.”

“I shall leave you if all you’re going to do is torment me by not answering my questions.”

Nicole pretended to faint on the bed, bringing her hand up to her forehead. “She’s leaving me. Oh, woe is me. I am bereft.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t. You adore me. Which is understandable. I am utterly adorable.”

Waverly huffed. “You’re infuriating. And no, I do not adore you.” 

“You do.”

“Do not.”

Waverly closed the door to the nursery knowing she did.

Nicole surfaced shortly after lunch, the Epsom salt bath restoring her to some semblance of normal functioning. Waverly found her on the terrace, wrapped in a woollen coat, about to light a cigarette, her breath visible, lost in thought. Nicole turned her head as she approached, holding the cigarette over the slim silver case in her other hand, deciding not to smoke it. Waverly slumped in a chair opposite, her eyes on Nicole’s face wondering what was going on inside her head.

“I know what you’re doing,” Nicole said, after a few moments. “You’re trying to work me out.”

“Am I?” Waverly asked. “Will anyone be able to?”

“Jinny thinks she can. She wants to know my soul. I told her there wasn’t much to know. That she’d be disappointed if she tried to find anything deeper.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would she be disappointed?”

“Because. I’m nothing special. Everyone assumes I’m something more. Jinny says with eyes as dangerous as mine there must be something profound within me.”

“Is there?”

“Of course there isn’t,” Nicole replied, more irritated at herself than Waverly’s succinct questioning. “There’s nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I think there’s everything. It simply needs to be seen.”

“You would think that. Jinny’s coming here later. She’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

“But. I thought…I thought you and Jinny were no longer together.”

Nicole rose, tapping the cigarette on the case. “For appearances, darling. All for appearances.”

Waverly watched as Nicole strolled off into the garden, a wisp of smoke trailing her. _Maybe Jinny was right,_ she thought. _There’s a depth to her no one is allowed near. She won’t even let me near. I can feel it. And, Jinny must feel it too when she’s with her._

Virginia arrived in a flourish, jumping out of the carriage, rushing to embrace Nicole who was waiting for her at the entrance. She smiled at Waverly, holding out her hand, the coachman handing a servant her oversized carpet bag. Nicole took her arm, the pair waltzing off towards the library where Nicole had a bottle of champagne waiting. Waverly was left standing at the foot of the stairs wondering whether she should follow, concluding she would not be welcome. 

She was no longer sad. Curious perhaps, wanting to know how Nicole’s love triangle worked. To be engaged to Charles, yet still be with Virginia fascinated her. _Red’s right,_ Waverly thought, _she never does anything straight, when she can do crooked. She’s never played fair with life. Or chess, for that matter. She cheats. My God, that’s it. She cheats._

Her mind went to the pond, to that moment when Nicole stood naked before her. Her own legs began to move in the direction of the garden door, her hand reaching out, about to open it when she heard Nicole’s voice from the stairs. “Where are you going?”

Waverly looked back. “I thought you wanted to be with Jinny.”

“No silly. She has something to show you. Come, she’s waiting.”

Waverly really wanted to visit the pond, hesitating, her hand still on the door knob. Recognising it would be rude to walk away, she followed Nicole upstairs, spotting Jinny stretched out on a chaise longue, puffing on a lit cigarette, a glass of champagne on a small table beside her. A leather journal rested on her lap like a contented cat, Jinny picking it up as she approached. “Red wants you to read some of my work. I must warn you, there is no semblance of order to what I write. I let my mind take me where it wants to go. I will not be offended if you say no.”

“No. I mean, yes. Sorry, I’d love to read your work. How is Oxford?”

“Stimulating. Not as stimulating as Bloomsbury, or our ravishing Red. It is sufficient for my needs. Nicole says you wish to attend Cambridge.”

“I’m hoping to. I’ve been studying hard. My mother isn’t keen.”

“Oh, you must go. Stimulating one’s mind is all that matters. Plenty of time for children later.”

Waverly took the journal, mulling over the thought of having children. She adored her nieces and nephews, yet having her own never once crossed her mind. She parked herself by a window, opening Virginia’s work, taking time to read each entry, marvelling at her ability to capture so much in her writing beyond the words chosen. 

She could hear Nicole talking about Charles, Jinny laughing at something, another bottle of champagne being opened. She wanted to tell Nicole to be quiet, so she could concentrate, also to not drink so much given the state she was in the previous night. It then dawned on her she would not be sleeping with Nicole, so what did it matter if she was drunk. It would be Jinny who would put her to bed, sort out her hangover the next morning.

She was halfway through a short story when Jinny sauntered over, puffing on a cigarette, gazing down at her. “Do the words I write excite you? Thrill you to the core.”

“Yes,” Waverly replied, smiling inwardly at Jinny’s confidence in her own writing. “Very much so.”

“In what way? In what way are you thrilled?” Virginia asked.

“Well. I would say you have your own unique voice,” Waverly replied, hoping that would suffice, hoping to have answered the question.

“Nothing more?” Virginia pressed. “Then I must be a dreadful disappointment to you.”

“No. It’s…I’ve not read anything like this before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Good. Perfect. That is a truer answer. Not some rehearsed response. Now, again. In what way are you thrilled?”

“I can hear their hearts beating,” Waverly answered, not knowing if that even made sense.

Virginia clapped her hands together, ash falling like a mini flurry of snow. “Do you? Oh my. You do. Oh Red, you were right, she really is gifted.”

“Told you so,” Nicole added, lounging on a chair, one of her long legs dangling over an arm. “She will do well at Girton.”

“Perhaps. Although, Oxford could do with a mind as sharp as hers. Oh, Red. How divine for you to have her.”

“I don’t think Waverly is a possession,” Nicole corrected. “More someone to be gazed upon. From afar.”

“Yes, I see,” Virginia replied. “A star shining in our midst. A comet showing us the way. A…I’m bored. Shall we crack open another bottle. This calls for a celebration.”

Waverly extracted herself from the gathering, taking Jinny’s work with her, heading to the pond. She wanted her own space, her own thoughts away from two giggling girls. Finding a log clean enough to sit on she resumed her reading, soaking up Virginia’s words, relishing how they moved her. _Perhaps literature is for me,_ she thought. _But, I do so love the purity of science. Oh, to do both. To learn everything. Issy would love to read this_. 

She was pulled from her thoughts by the crunch of footsteps approaching. Nicole emerged through the trees, a full glass of champagne in her hand, squeezing herself onto the log, forcing Waverly to move along. They sat for a few minutes in silence, the sound of nature all around, leaves rustling as the wind swept them along an earthy floor. 

Nicole placed her glass on the ground, careful not to knock it over this time. “You know I’m only pretending to be with Charles. We’re the perfect couple. Perfectly perfect.”

“I guessed that,” Waverly replied. “I wondered how your little triangle worked. Then it came to me. Charles doesn’t mind, nor does Jinny. Therefore, I’m assuming there’s no problem between the two.”

“Very observant of you. For someone still so young.”

“I’m sixteen. I could be married with a child on the way.”

“True. Or, going to university in a few years’ time. I need to tell you something.”

“You’re pregnant,” Waverly replied. “Joining a nunnery.”

“I’m going away,” Nicole said quietly, taking her silver case from the pocket of her coat, extracting a cigarette, tapping it on the outer casing. “Constantinople, perhaps further. Charles wants me to be his travelling companion. All rather exciting. I shall write.”

Waverly smiled, more for her own benefit than Nicole’s. “Then, all I can say is I hope your trip, your adventure, is all you want it to be.”

“You don’t seemed surprised,” Nicole replied. 

“Once perhaps. I would have begged you to remain in my life.”

“And now?”

“Now. Now, I see beyond the story. I see beyond your never-ending desire to escape, be free of all that burdens you, free of everyone who seeks to know you. And, I no longer need to believe the story you tell yourself in the hope others believe it too.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Nicole replied. “I didn’t think I was ever that important.”

“Oh, but you are. Every encounter with you drew me nearer. Sucked me in, like a muddled moth to a flickering flame, dangerously hovering closer, closer, until its wings are singed.”

“Are you sure you’re not more suited to literature than science,” Nicole teased.

“And, there we are. That is how you cheat the world and everyone who gets too close. You would rather keep me away with that witty sword of yours, or should I say witty words, than draw me closer. I no longer care to play that game. I hate it.”

“Hate is too strong a word. Jinny refuses to use it.”

Waverly wanted to beat the love out of Nicole, but she couldn’t. It would be no use. She stood, looking back at the one person who had shaped her early life, continued to shape her life, knowing the illusion had been broken. _I cannot love a fantasy,_ she thought. _And, I cannot love someone who isn’t real. Real to me. Or, to themselves._

“You made me feel alive. You brought me to life. You taught me life could have a purpose other than what’s laid down for a woman. You were my runaway train. No…” Waverly paused, gathering steam to her thoughts. “You were my dynamite that blew up the train tracks and sent me careering off into the wild desert in search of Arabian warriors to fight and lamps to polish in the hope a genie would appear. You were my hope of a wildly different tomorrow, my reason for not having to follow my sisters. You. Do you understand? Do you even recognise that in yourself?”

Nicole lit her cigarette, pulling on it a few times. “Arabian warrior, with a saif. What a delightful image. Me with a shiny sword, coming to your rescue.”

Waverly let out an exasperated sigh. “Red, my Red. The one who would rather play pretend, hide behind a false image than reveal themselves to me. You think you’re so clever fooling us all. But, really you’re fooling yourself.”

Nicole’s eyes met Waverly’s. “Jinny says the same. That I make myself unobtainable. A will-o’-the-wisp, a light to be followed when others are lost, enticing all to their fate, never to be captured.”

“I see through you. I see through you. I know who you are.”

“There is nothing there. I assure you, what you see is a figment of your imagination, not mine.”

“You are wrong. What I see is you. I’ve always seen you. Don’t you get it?”

Nicole let her cigarette go out, her hand shaking. “Don’t make me love you. Don’t make me do this to you.”

“Oh, you silly, silly thing. It’s far too late for that. Don’t you see? You already do.”

“No. You are wrong. I don’t. I can’t.”

Waverly knelt down, taking Nicole’s free hand. “You already do.”

“I cannot be that. Not for you. Not for you. Our world doesn’t allow it.”

“To hell with the world. What do you want? Right now. In this very moment. Tell me, what scares you the most?”

“You.”


	15. the Press

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone but Nicole can see what's going on...

Waverly released Nicole’s hand, brushing away dried leaves attached to the front of her skirt as she stood. “Stop drinking. Stop smoking. And, stop trying to protect me.”

“I’m not,” Nicole shouted, watching Waverly walk away. “I’m not. I’ll drink and smoke as much as I like. Do you hear? I can do what I like. I’m older than you. You realise that.”

“Then act it,” Waverly shouted back.

Nicole raised herself up from the log, knocking over her glass in the process, cursing out loud. She returned to find Jinny reclined on the chaise longue, casually flicking through a magazine. Refilling her empty glass, she plonked herself in an armchair, mulling over Waverly’s words. “Do I inspire you?” she asked after a several minutes’ contemplation, taking a sip of champagne, removing a small piece of leaf from her mouth.

“Constantly,” Jinny replied. “In the most delightful ways imaginable. I will add you are a conundrum, waiting to be solved. Or, perhaps not. Perhaps that is your most alluring quality. Being an enigma. Although, I suppose we are all mysterious and impossible to understand, even to ourselves.”

“Waverly says she can see through me.”

Jinny laughed. “That would make you a ghost, my darling. Perhaps what she means is she can see the nakedness of your heart.”

“Good heavens, I hope not. She’s still so young. I don’t want her seeing anything naked about me.”

“Oh...oh my,” Jinny said, sitting up, tossing the magazine aside. “Oh Red, you have desires for your protégé. How did I miss this? I will say she’s delicate and delicious, a delight on the eye. What a dilemma for you.”

“I do not have desires. And, she’s not my protégé. I simply have known her a long time. Most of her life in fact. Which makes this all the more awkward.”

“For whom? That your eyes linger a little too long on her quivering lips. That your tongue seeks the taste of her ripening breasts…”

“Enough,” Nicole demanded. “She is a family friend. I will not involve her in my life. Not in that way.”

“Why not? Has she not the same right to you as the rest of us?”

“Right? Right? No one has a right to me. No one. Not you, not Charles. And, certainly not Wiggle.”

“Oh my. Torn between desire and duty. I can hear it screaming from your desperate denial. I wonder why? I wonder what is going on inside that pretty head of yours to want to treat her differently. Oh…oh, I see it. Oh, how foolish of me. Your darling Wiggle has your heart. Doesn’t she?”

“She most certainly hasn’t. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll remind you again, she’s sixteen. Too young to know love. Too young even to know what love is. And, far too young to know me.”

“Is that what’s worrying you? Oh Red, my reluctant Red. How tragically romantic. And, how terribly sad.”

“I don’t want her to be influenced by me. I don’t want her thinking she has to be like me. In every way. She’s too precious to everyone to cause them the pain I cause those I’m supposed to love.”

“You will hurt her far more by withholding your love. For whatever reason you have convinced yourself is right. And, you will hurt yourself.”

The evening meal was a quiet affair. Waverly ate in the main dining room, noticing some colour had returned to the cheeks of Nicole’s mother, who seemed more relaxed compared to when they arrived. Nicole and Jinny chose to eat separately in the breakfast room, her mother agreeing given how drunk her daughter was again, choosing not to reprimand her on this occasion.

All she wanted was a peaceful meal in the company of her charming friend and her equally charming daughter Waverly, without having to listen to her own daughter ramble on, ad nauseam, about how stimulating her Bloomsbury friends were and how enlightened she had become in their company. She tried on numerous occasions to explain to her daughter the people she was associating with were no friends. Merely the bored of society, with enough free time to think all their silly thoughts, attracting those who were naïve enough to be swayed by their thinking. 

Nicole’s mother knew her daughter could not see, or would not see, how all those liberal ideals, her so-called friends embraced about society, undermined her own elevated position in that very society. She hoped her daughter would have been wise enough to understand this, wise enough to see the charade, wise enough not to be openly associated with such radical thinkers, who so easily could drag her and her family’s name down to the lowest levels of respectable society. 

It was already the case her mother had paid for several salacious stories to be pulled from newspapers prior to publication. All without Nicole’s knowledge. Her mother feared if she knew, if she suspected, she would do something even more scandalous simply to have it printed. Her mother would say she simply wanted to protect her daughter from her own worst faults. Nicole would say her family was embarrassed by who she was, stupidly believing she had absolute control over her life. She did. In a way. She was a grown woman. What she had no control over were other people’s tongues. 

She also had no control over whoever in her so-called group of friends was deliberately feeding the press all those stories of how the upper class behaved in ways that would earn the informer a pretty penny. That informer cared little about the story, or the person about which they were revealing intimate details. What they cared about was the value of that information to those who would pay to have it remain behind closed doors.

The door to the dining room burst open, Nicole staggering in, an empty bottle of champagne in her hand, Jinny peering over her shoulder giggling. “I have a bottle,” she announced, each word pronounced slowly, deliberately. “And, it’s gone. All gone.” 

“I will ask for a full one to be sent to the breakfast room,” her mother replied, not looking at her daughter, clearly embarrassed by her behaviour.

Waverly saw out of the corner of her eye Nicole staring at her, wanting to say something. She focused on her plate, listening to the tiny bell being rung by Nicole’s mother to summon a servant. “I suggest you return to the breakfast room,” her mother added.

“Oh, I will. I will. I’m not wanted here. Obli…obvios...”

Waverly stifled a laugh at Nicole’s inability to pronounce the word. She could tell Nicole was pushing for an argument, hoping to cause a scene. Whether that was for her own entertainment, or Jinny’s she no longer was sure. This was no longer the person she knew, this was not her Nicole, wondering why she needed to do this, push everyone away, push her own self away. The only person she seemed prepared to keep close was Jinny. _I don’t blame Jinny,_ she thought. _I feel sorry for her in a way, believing she has Nicole. She must sense she’s being used. Maybe she doesn’t care. Maybe she’s too in love with her own writing to see. No, that’s wicked. That’s something Issy would say._

She heard the door slam, the bottle smashing on the wooden floor outside, a “sorry” being shouted by Nicole, Jinny’s distinctive laugh. _She’s showing off in front of Jinny. She’s showing her she can act however she wants in her own home. And, her poor mother is left to clean up the mess. Well, a servant._

Waverly wanted to shout at her, tell her to stop being so selfish, tell her to stop being so childish, tell her to grow up. She finished her meal in silence, Nicole’s mother clearly upset by the interaction, Waverly wanting to hug her, tell her it was fine. That this was Nicole looking for attention, her modus operandi, her way of dealing with the world. 

She chose to spend her last evening at Wattlestone reading in bed, without the distraction of Nicole and Jinny who had returned to the library. It was gone ten when Nicole knocked loudly on the door of the nursery, Waverly about to finish the last chapter of the book she had borrowed. _Not again,_ she thought, as Nicole opened the door. _Where’s Jinny when you need her? She’s so drunk. Why do I have to deal with drunk Nicole?_

“I’m off to London,” Nicole slurred, her muddled mind trying to figure out why she was outside the nursery wanting to enter, holding herself back.

“Not in that state, I hope,” Waverly replied. “Where’s your writer friend?”

“My writer…my friend, is…” Nicole looked round, wondering where her friend was, suddenly remembering. “My friend is sleeping.”

“As you should be. Go to bed Nicole. And, have a safe journey.”

“I will. I’m going.”

“Goodbye.”

Nicole remained in the doorway. “Will you miss me?” she asked.

Waverly was tempted to tell her no, given her condition. “Yes, I will miss you terribly. Now, please go to bed.”

“I’ll miss you,” Nicole continued. “I do love you.”

“Go to bed.”

“Do you love me?”

“Go to bed.”

“Can I sleep here?”

“No,” Waverly said emphatically. “You need to find your own bed. Or, a bed big enough for those long legs of yours. This is too small for both of us.”

Nicole made a spider with her hand, with the intention of amusing Waverly this time. “I’ll be quiet,” moving a finger to her lips. “Shush. No one will hear.”

Waverly laughed. “No, Nicole. God, you are so naughty sometimes.”

“I might not see you for ages,” Nicole added, sticking out her lower lip.

“I know. And, I’m sad about that. But, it still doesn’t mean I have to be wedged into a small bed with you.”

Nicole approached, attempting to place the champagne bottle on the bedside table, her clumsy actions making it wobble, Waverly grabbing the neck as it was about to topple over onto the floor. She hopped out of bed, placing the bottle on the window ledge, out of harm’s way. When she turned Nicole was sprawled on the bed, long legs dangling over the side, pretending to be asleep. 

“I know you’re awake,” she said, sitting on the edge, placing a hand on her thigh. “You have how many bedrooms in this house and you end up here.”

Nicole opened one eye. “It’s my bed.”

“Which I’m in.”

“I’m far, far, far too drunk to find another bed.”

“Is that so? But, you were not far, far, far too drunk to find this one.”

“I’m far, far, far too drunk to…I need to lie here. Until the world stops spinning. Or, this bed.”

Waverly threw up her hands, in the same way Wynonna would. “Fine. Sleep here. I’ll find another room. Honestly, once is amusing. Twice is…twice is once too many.”

Nicole opened both eyes, hauling herself up. “I’ll go. I thought you liked sleeping with me.”

“Once. I liked sleeping with you here when you were sober and shorter.”

Nicole’s eyes scanned the room for the champagne bottle, failing to see it on the ledge, heading out the door, leaving Waverly to close it afterwards. She would happily have allowed Nicole to sleep with her, was sad it might be their last time, yet the thought of being in the same bed, knowing Jinny was in the same house, grated on her beyond what she could consciously express.

That night she dreamt of Nicole demanding to be fed slice after slice of cake, cream oozing out of her mouth as she tried to stuff in more pieces. Nicole’s eyes flashing, thrilled to have someone indulging her, cheeks bulging, empty champagne bottles rolling back and forth on the deck of the sailing vessel they were on. The helm unattended, the vessel drifting to who knew where. _Where are we going?_ she thought, as she realised there was no more cake. _Constantinople,_ Nicole replied. _Perhaps further,_ her white pirate shirt open to the waist. _I will take you with me. And, let you see the world. You’ll leave me,_ she heard herself reply. _You’ll find someone else. Someone to indulge you. Someone you’ll chase, and chase, and chase naked, then kiss, and kiss, and kiss naked._

She woke with a start, a sliver of early morning light stealing in through the partially drawn curtains. She spotted the half-full champagne bottle now resting on a chair where she had moved it, the last reminder of her Red. Their carriage departed shortly before ten, in time to catch the train back to London. Given their infrequency, she wondered which train Nicole and Jinny would catch, assuming it would be much, much later, or not at all. She worried about her drinking, worried why she needed to drink so much, not yet familiar with its effects, not yet knowing what it was like to have the after-effects of too much of a good thing.

On her return to London she arranged to go riding with Christine, not mentioning any of the events at Wattlestone. She arranged for Isobel to visit for afternoon tea at her house, relaying Jinny’s writing as best she could, her friend soaking up every ounce of excitement from those stories Waverly could remember. “I wish she’d let me borrow her journal,” Waverly said, as she refilled Issy’s teacup. “Her words dance.”

“I so want to write,” Isobel replied. “I want to spare no detail. Have love fall at my feet.”

“Like a blind person,” Waverly teased, Isobel shooting her a glare. “Why don’t you apply to Cambridge? We could be fellow students.”

“Oh, how I’d love to. Sadly, father is adamant a woman does not need such an education. I’m surprised your parents are so agreeable.”

“How is James?” Waverly asked, not wanting to dwell on the matter. 

“James is ever the annoying brother. You are lucky not to have one. He asked after you.”

Waverly smiled. She liked James. A little too much like Edward, but endearing. Someone she could have a serious conversation with, without worrying he would think her hysterical, as other men his age were inclined to do. He was already at Cambridge. His first year, Waverly hoping to remain in contact should she be successful in gaining a place at Girton. 

She didn’t hear from Nicole for weeks. And then, a letter arrived telling her Charles had booked their passage on a ship heading to her new adventure and she would be leaving within a week. Waverly knew this was coming, knew Nicole had chosen this new persona to play willingly, that of pretend wife-to-be with Charles, knowing Nicole did whatever she liked, unless checked. She wrote a polite reply, wishing her a safe trip, saying she looked forward to receiving Nicole’s letters, wondering when, if she would see her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constantinople = Istanbul, Turkey  
> Ad nauseam = Latin term meaning an argument or discussion continued to the point of feeling sick  
> Modus operandi = Latin term meaning a particular way or method of doing something
> 
> In the Victorian era a man could drink and smoke to his heart's content, not so a woman. She had to remain morally pure, untouched by the sins of society. 
> 
> When it came to attitudes around sex, the Victorians prided themselves on their high moral code, yet sexual tension lurked beneath the surface. The Victorians were VERY, VERY interested in what people got up to behind closed doors. 
> 
> The Criminal Law Amendment Act 1885 made any male homosexual act illegal, while female homosexuality was never explicitly targeted by legislation, a clause having been removed from the Act by Queen Victoria, who considered any sexual act/love between women to be impossible.


	16. the Pyramids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly's new adventure has just begun...

One chilly October morning Waverly entered the grounds of Girton College, Cambridge, for the first time as a student, proud to have been accepted, knowing Nicole had walked the very same path. Having turned eighteen in the previous month she believed herself ready to take on the adventure of formal study in a place she hoped would satisfy her deep curiosity about life. She smiled to herself, remembering Nicole’s last letter in which she told her to go check the library where she had etched her name with the metal nib of a pen on a wooden panel one rainy April afternoon. 

Wynonna was with her, her own mother too upset at her youngest daughter leaving home to accompany her. She preferred the company of her sister, someone sensible she could confide in, someone who understood why she needed to go do the things she wanted to go do with her life. Having delivered Waverly’s luggage to her room, greeted other students, had tea with the College Dean, they took a stroll, finding a quiet bench near the rose garden. “Petal, I’m so proud of you,” Wynonna began, taking her sister’s hand. “I hope you enjoy every minute of your time here. You deserve it.”

“You know I’m not doing this simply because Nicole came here.”

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “The less you follow her path the better. She’s a fool for herself. Mind you, she seems to have made the best of it with her and Charles.”

Waverly smiled inwardly, knowing Nicole’s last letter to her was full of complaints about Charles, and the heat of Khartoum, and the sand. She particularly hated sand. And, flies. And, Charles. “She showed me I could use my mind,” she replied. “That if I applied myself I could achieve what I most wanted. To be here.”

“And you are. Don’t worry about mama. She wishes to keep you as her little doll. I can see it with my own. Edward says I fuss too much over them, but who else will?”

“You are a wonderful mother,” Waverly said. “And, someday perhaps…”

“I do think you’ll make a wonderful mother. You’ve been better at looking after mine, than I have. I might love them to death, but having to manage them is a frightful chore, no woman should be subjected to.”

Waverly laughed. “You have two nannies and countless servants.”

“I know. The burdens of motherhood. Edward and I will visit at the end of the month. Let me know if there’s anything you need. I best be getting back to that unruly brood of mine. I do so love you my petal. You know you were my baby girl. I remember seeing you for the first time and wanting to hold you forever. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“Stop it. You’ll make me cry. Give Edward my love. And, the babies.”

The weeks flew by, Waverly relishing her studies and a social life she had dreamt of. Isobel’s brother James paid her visits, accompanying her on strolls in the nearby park, telling her all about the many scandalous activities that went on at his college. Isobel promised to visit, yet Waverly sensed from her letters she felt excluded, perhaps a little jealous of her friend’s new life. James said she was courting someone, something Isobel failed to mention in her letters. It hurt at first to think her friend had not thought to mention such an important piece of information, deciding it was not something to worry about. Afterall, Nicole had frequently failed to tell her most of her important news.

The post arrived one frosty November morning. A letter from her mother, another from Wynonna and one from Nicole, her unmistakable spidery handwriting making Waverly smile. She read the letters from her family first. Wynonna was having difficulty with Alice, who missed Waverly dreadfully, Wynonna asking if she could bring her on their next visit. Her mother wanted to know if she had enough winter clothes and food, telling her to wrap up warm and to expect the food hamper she was sending. She offered to come visit with more clothing, Waverly’s eyes drawn to the closet already stuffed with more clothes than she could possibly wear at her mother’s insistence. 

She opened the letter from Nicole last: 

My dearest Wiggle,

I do so hope Girton is proving to be all you expected. I remember my days there with fondness. Oh, to be there again. Alas, these past months have been filled with nothing but nuisances. Charles has decided to remain in Africa, a handsome British diplomat having caught his eye. I succumbed to fever, I do believe brought on by too much sand. 

The journey home was miserable. Sickness and heat exhaustion are not welcome travel companions. I am once more at Wattlestone recuperating. I long to see you if you are not too busy with your studies. I know how challenging the work can be in the first year. I will not disturb if it will inconvenience you. I assure you, I do understand the pressures placed on a student of Cambridge.

I have not mentioned this to you in my previous letters, but I took your words to heart. Your words at the pond that day at Wattlestone. They remained with me no matter how far I travelled, keeping you close to me. I wish to remain your friend, your mentor, if you will permit me.

Your loving Red.

She read the letter several times, deciding to pen a response immediately, glad to know her Red was home at last:

My dearest Red,

I am thrilled to know you are home. I wish you a speedy recovery and look forward to seeing you when you are well again. England is colder with considerably less sand, which I trust is more to your liking.

Girton is everything I hoped it would be. My studies are going well, although I struggle with some of the more advanced classes in maths. James has been helping me, which is a relief. I have made many new friends, even in the short time I have been here.

I went to the library on my first day and saw your name carved into the panel for posterity. I am not brave enough to add my name underneath. Not yet, at least. Your presence will not disturb me, unless you would prefer I visit Wattlestone given you are recuperating. 

I was young when I spoke those words to you. Please forgive me for being so direct and insensitive. That was never my intention. I merely wanted you to know how much you mean to me. How much you have inspired me to be the woman I am. The woman I can be. 

Your loving Wiggle.

She sent her letter off, expecting to wait weeks for a reply. Nicole’s response arrived a few days later asking if it would possible for her to visit the following weekend, seeing she would be in Cambridge for a reunion of sorts. Waverly gladly accepted the offer to meet, a time and place arranged. A house not far from the college, owned by two of Nicole’s friends, in a lovely secluded location. A carriage would collect her at eleven, taking her the short distance to have lunch with her old friend. 

Waverly sat on her bed playing with her gloves as she waited for the carriage to arrive, a porter knocking on her door a few minutes after the hour to say it was waiting in the courtyard. As she approached, a coachman jumped down to open the door for her, allowing her to step inside. As she did she was greeted by a familiar face. “Hello Wiggle, did you miss me?”

Waverly flung her arms round Nicole, the coachman closing the door, the climb to his seat rocking the carriage, pushing Waverly further into Nicole’s arms. “No. Not in the slightest,” she teased, as she let go, the movement of the carriage making her grab hold of the back of the seat to steady herself. As she parked herself beside Nicole it was the first chance she had to look at her properly. Thinner, pale, still immaculately dressed, her hair a little lighter than she remembered. 

Nicole took her hand. “I’m so sorry not to have been there for you these past few years. I was rather selfish. I hope you’ll forgive me. And, I hope we will have a chance to make up for the time lost.”

“I enjoyed your letters,” Waverly said, feeling the tickle of a tear on her cheek. “I gather you and sand do not agree.”

Nicole laughed. “No. I’m afraid I have had more than enough sand for one lifetime. Tell me, how are you finding Girton?”

“Stimulating. James has been a godsend. If it wasn’t for him I would have been adrift in my first few weeks.”

Nicole looked away, her hand slipping from Waverly’s. “I’m glad. I’m glad you have someone. Charles and I parted amicably. I say amicably. I hardly saw him after he found someone who suited his circumstances.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. And, Jinny?”

“Jinny is quite well, as far as I know. She grew bored of me too. I cannot blame her. I was gone rather a long time.”

“I never grew bored of you,” Waverly replied. 

Nicole turned to face her once more. “My how you’ve grown. You are quite the adult now. I often wondered what you might look like. You are as I imagined. Although, I notice grey hairs appearing.”

Waverly smiled. “I’ve missed you so much. You’re not thinking of flitting off anywhere are you?”

“My health would not allow it. Travel broadens the mind, but weakens the constitution. Mother is pleased I am back and no longer drinking. Or smoking.”

“So am I. You did drink rather a lot.”

“I did. I vaguely recall wanting to share a bed with you in the nursery.”

Waverly felt her stomach flutter, hoping her cheeks would not betray her. “And, I recall sending you away because of those long legs of yours.”

Nicole made a spider hand, sending Waverly into a fit of giggles. 

The carriage drew up outside a quaint cottage, the coachman opening the door, stepping back to allow them to exit. A small, well-dressed man opened the door, a broad smile on his face. “Well, well, well, what have we here? A traveller from afar. Do come in, it’s frightfully cold outside. And, who have we here?”

“Jeremy, this is Miss Earp, a dear friend of mine. A Girton girl.”

“Welcome, welcome, do come in, please.”

They were shown into a cosy parlour, a fire blazing in an open hearth, newspapers and academic books scattered across every surface, along with a decent layer of dust. Jeremy removed a pile of papers from the couch inviting them to sit, scurrying off to make tea. He returned with a tray laden with crockery and a teapot decorated with blue primroses. “Robin is in town, on errands,” he said, placing the heavy tray precariously on a small table. “I’m hoping he’ll remember to bring cake, he’s rather forgetful. So, tell me about your travels. I’m dying to know everything.”

Nicole spent the next hour telling of her adventures, Waverly sipping her tea, listening quietly. She told them of reddish-yellow landscapes that shifted constantly and inky-black skies pierced by stars. She told them of pyramids and nomads, drinking camel’s milk and being made to eat sheep eyeballs. She told how their train had been stopped by bandits in the middle of the night, narrowly escaping with their lives, Charles firing his gun out the window to scare them off. She told them all the places she visited had made her fall in love with England, not having appreciated its beauty and its cooler climate until she had gone so very far from its shores.

“My, my,” Jeremy said, putting down his cup, pulling out a handkerchief to blow his nose loudly. “Fascinating. What a journey. I’m not sure I would be able to stomach sheep eyes. Sounds positively revolting.”

“They pop in your mouth,” Nicole replied, earning a gasp from Waverly. “I had no choice. To refuse would have offended the tribal leader we were dining with.”

“I see.”

“Or not, in the case of the sheep.”

Waverly held onto her cup and saucer, shoulders shaking, desperately trying not to laugh. She could spend hours in Nicole’s company and never be bored, her ability to bring a room to life, to make light of any situation, even an unpleasant one, was her gift, her magic. She heard the front door open and close, heavy footsteps outside, the handle on the door to the parlour room being turned. In bounced a man, equally well-dressed about the same age as Jeremy, carrying several packages wrapped in brown paper. “There you are,” Jeremy said, getting up. “Did you remember the cake?”

“I did. It’s your favourite. Madeira.”

“Robin, you remember Nicole and this is her friend Miss Earp. Nicole has told us all about her time abroad. Fascinating.”

Robin handed over the packages to Jeremy, approaching Nicole, leaning in to kiss her on both cheeks. “I’m sorry I missed your stories. Jeremy will have to fill me in. Has he shown you the room yet?”

“No. It’s extremely kind of you. This won’t be too much of an inconvenience?”

“Not at all,” Robin replied. “The more the merrier.”

Nicole followed Robin out of the room, Waverly wondering why she needed to be shown another room, sitting patiently on her own listening to the fire crackle. She heard Nicole and Robin returning, Jeremy calling from the kitchen to say he was bringing in the cake and a fresh pot of tea. No mention was made of the room, Waverly deciding it wasn’t her place to ask.

The carriage ride back to the college was pleasant, Nicole recounting more tales, Waverly laughing at her many mishaps, like the time she accidentally kissed a tribal leader’s wife full on the lips having had a little too much to drink. “It was at that precise moment I realised drink and diplomacy do not mix. It was also the moment I realised I really needed to stop drinking.”

“To stop yourself causing a diplomatic embarrassment,” Waverly offered.

“To stop me kissing unattractive strangers when drunk.” Nicole winked.

As the carriage neared Girton, Nicole took Waverly’s hand. “I’ve so enjoyed our time together. I hope we get to do this more often. Do let me know when I can next visit?”

“Soon, I hope,” Waverly replied. “I’ve enjoyed our day too. Jeremy and Robin are charming. And, their house is homely, if a little untidy.”

“Regrettably yes. I agree, it would be good if they employed a maid, but then that is why they can live there as they choose. They are trustworthy friends who understand. And, will be discreet.”


	17. the Presumption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly tries to figure out what Nicole means to her...

That night Waverly dreamt of trains sweeping across shifting landscapes, bandits waving swords on camels giving chase alongside, her fearless Red coming to the rescue, sweeping her up in her arms, kissing her on the lips. _Why is there always danger surrounding you?_ she wondered, as she dressed for morning classes. _Why does everything you do have to be passionate and intoxicating? Why do you leave me breathless? I need to be careful, very careful. You will draw me into your wild adventures, then what? I don’t think even you know, do you Red?_

Her friends were waiting for her in the dining hall, discussing a dashing older brother of one of the girls who had been spotted on a recent visit to the college, wondering who might catch his eye. Waverly ate her dry toast hoping it would not be her, given she had two people in her life already. “You’re awfully quiet,” her friend said, reaching for the jam. “Are you worried about the test today?”

“A little. I hope to do well enough.”

“You will come top,” her friend assured. “You always do well. You work yourself too hard. And, you think too much.”

“Perhaps,” she replied. “Although, that’s why we’re here. To sit and contemplate. To think too much.”

“Quite right,” her friend agreed, placing a large spoonful of jam on her bread. “But, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

“But, all play and no work makes Jack a mere toy.”

Her friend laughed. “You win.”

A letter arrived from Nicole a few days later, informing Waverly her health was improving through daily walks and the absence of sand. She wrote she would be calling upon Jeremy and Robin on Saturday and wondered whether Waverly would like to accompany her. She complained of extreme boredom at being confined to a quiet house, with only her mother for company. She said she had taken to sleeping in the nursery, with four dolls to remind her of happier times.

She mentioned she was composing the letter at a writing desk once owned by Queen Marie-Antoinette, her bare feet resting on a carpet which came from the chapel in the Palace of Versailles. She emphasised she had counted every single clock in the house, all fifty six, for no other reason than to give her something to do, each clock telling her life was slipping through her fingers like the grains of sand she detested. 

She mentioned a vase in the shape of a ship resting on the mantelpiece in the room where she was writing, believing it to be the one item which ignited her imagination, making her believe she was a pirate when younger. To sail away on such a vessel would be heaven, she wrote, in search of hidden treasure. _Oh Nicole, you did that already,_ Waverly thought, as she read the line, _and came back sick. And, here you are again wanting more adventure. You will never change. I wish you would stay still, for once, or stay in the country long enough for me to know you, not go looking for things to love elsewhere._

Waverly now faced a dilemma. James was planning to visit the same day as Nicole. Should she choose to stroll with James, or accompany Nicole? Two very different people. Polar opposites, if she was being honest. She admired James’ sensible, steady nature and his intelligence. And yet, to miss out on a day with Nicole and all her tales. No, it would have to be James, she decided, imagining Nicole rolling her eyes calling her dull. Miss Sensible. She huffed, penning a letter to Nicole apologising she was unable to accompany on that particular day. 

Nicole wrote back immediately suggesting they meet on the Sunday, Waverly accepting the invitation, sensing her friend was going out of her way to be in her company. It reassured her Nicole wanted to alter her plans, even by one day. It gave her a sense of autonomy, a sense of control over their friendship. For it was a friendship, of sorts. 

She pushed the thought of any deeper attraction from her mind, not brave enough to explore what lay beneath her own surface. There had been moments, moments when she would gladly have let Nicole sweep her off her feet, lay her down on a soft bed and kiss her, over, and over, and over. She knew it was wrong. She knew it went against what society expected, and yet she had those feelings. It scared her, even more so not knowing whom she could tell.

She had thought of mentioning it to Wynonna, but decided if it got back to her mother they might stop her seeing Nicole. There was no way she would ever mention it to any of her friends, not wanting it to mark her out as different. She couldn’t bare that. She wasn’t like Nicole, able to do the thing that scared her the most. And, she couldn’t talk to Nicole. How do you have that conversation with someone? Of course she knew Nicole’s preferences. Nicole wasn’t exactly subtle, but to tell her she had feelings, that she wasn’t sure what those feelings were. Besides, she didn’t know for sure if Nicole wanted anything more than friendship. Yes, she knew she was loved, but she assumed that love was platonic.

The walk with James was pleasant. The ground crisp under their feet, Waverly feeling the cold through her boots, her thoughts drifting to her mother who would be frantic with worry to think she had ventured out on such a cold day. They stopped for tea, James telling her Isobel was lonely and might pay her a visit. Waverly promised she would make contact during the Christmas holidays, glad her friend still wanted to be her friend. 

Sunday arrived, Nicole’s carriage pulling up in the courtyard twenty minutes late, Waverly entering. Nicole had a mischievous grin on her face. “What?” Waverly asked, as she took her seat. “What are you up to?”

“You’ll see. I have cake.”

Waverly felt the flutter in her stomach, remembering her dream of feeding Nicole. “So you Red. So, so you,” she replied, hearing Wynonna in her response.

“What? I like cake,” Nicole replied, not knowing anything about Waverly’s dream. “Especially, the ones with lots of cream. My favourite.”

Waverly looked out the window, her cheeks burning at the memory of Nicole in her dreams. The carriage drew up outside the cottage, Jeremy opening the door, wrapped in a scarf and blanket. “Having trouble lighting the fire,” he said. “Robin’s seeing to it. I suggest you keep your coats on.”

They entered the house, their breath still visible as they sat in the parlour, Nicole offering to help get the fire going, Robin wafting smoke everywhere. “The wood’s too damp,” he announced after several attempts. “We need to find something dry to burn. Jeremy, throw me your academic papers, there’s a good chap.”

“Oh, hilarious,” Jeremy replied. “Perhaps, some of your clothing. That needs burning.”

“We could break up a chair,” Nicole suggested, everyone looking at her, bursting into laughter. “What? I’ll pay for a new one. We burnt bones in the desert to keep warm. Smelt absolutely frightful, but it provided enough fire to keep the scorpions away.”

They eventually got a decent fire going, Nicole’s suggestion taken up with an old wooden chest Robin found in one of the out-buildings. Coats off, cake out, they sat discussing philosophy and Greek mythology and Jeremy’s latest paper on the appalling working conditions in mills. A research fellow at Trinity College, his passion lay in highlighting the inequality in society, particularly the plight of those who kept England’s fires burning and created the fabrics to clothe a nation. He would have shunned someone like Nicole, and her upper-class privileges, had he not fallen in love with her. 

And, that was Nicole’s charm. Writ large. She had everything. Literally everything at her fingertips and yet, she seemed most comfortable rolling her sleeves up, getting down and dirty, where others of her social standing would have turned up their noses, called on a servant, expected the dirty work to be done for them. 

“We’re thinking of getting someone in,” Robin said, helping himself to another slice of cake. “Just to make the place liveable for when you stay. Two bachelors are not ideal for domesticity.”

“There’s really no need,” Nicole replied. “As I said, my travels have taught me to enjoy wherever I find myself.”

“You’re staying?” Waverly asked, placing the fork in her hand on the plate, placing the plate on the small table beside her. 

Nicole nodded. “I’m thoroughly bored at Wattlestone. I need something to occupy my mind. And, what better way than to assist you with your studies.”

Waverly took a moment to absorb the words. “You’re…you’re staying here for me?”

“If that is acceptable to you. I will not intrude. But, after you mentioned that James fellow helping you with your advanced maths I wondered whether I might be of assistance too. And, I have very learned friends who will be more than happy to give you added guidance. Isn’t that right Jeremy?”

“More than happy,” Jeremy replied. “I must say, I’m thoroughly relishing the opportunity to impart my knowledge. Especially to someone handpicked by Nicole.”

Waverly sat quietly wondering what was going on. Nicole deciding to stay close enough to be in contact was new to her. Enlisting the help of her friends was also new. But, what stuck in her mind was Nicole’s clear assertion she was competing with James. It amused her to think Nicole had gone to the trouble of arranging everything to show Waverly she was serious about her studies. More specifically, she was serious about her. _And so the game of chess begins,_ she thought, picking up her plate. 

She spent a restless night tossing and turning, the idea of Nicole moving closer, simply to be able to help, exhilarating, but also stifling to a degree. She wanted her near, but didn’t want Nicole dominating her life. Taking over, making her feel she wasn’t capable of achieving her goal of a degree on her own. She woke feeling drained, a long day of classes ahead, her mind not on her studies for the first time since arriving. _What to do?_ she thought. _What should I do?_

She was no nearer to knowing the best way forward, sitting quietly at breakfast, her friends chatting merrily about some trivial matter. In class her mind was elsewhere, desperately wanting to stay focused, distracted by events outside her control. And then, it dawned on her, she needed to make it clear she wanted to do this on her own, tell Nicole that while her move to be nearer was welcome, and the offer of Jeremy’s assistance was also welcome, she needed to do this on her own. To stand in her own moment. 

She returned to her room late afternoon with only one thought on her mind. Taking out her writing set and a pen, she began:

My dearest Red,

I cannot begin to tell you how much I have enjoyed being in your company again. You are a delight and I will dine out on your stories of adventure for many years to come.

Your offer to reside so close to Girton is truly a sacrifice I cannot ask you to make. Not on my behalf. You have your life to lead, as I have mine. Do not abandon your adventurous spirit for my sake. 

I will enjoy the opportunity to be in your company on future occasions. 

Forever yours, Wiggle.

With a heavy heart she sent the letter off.

She heard nothing from Nicole for over a week, fretting she had offended her to the point she would never hear from her again. And then, three letters arrived on the same day, all from Nicole, laying bare her intentions.

Waverly cried as she read Nicole’s last letter, opening up to her, telling her how she wanted nothing more than to see Waverly succeed and would do everything in her power to make sure she did. She apologised, over, and over, and over for being so presumptuous in her plans, without consulting beforehand. She merely wanted to be there for her. To be her friend, knowing how lonely, how challenging it can be in an academic environment. 

Waverly wrote back, telling her she was flattered by the arrangement, that she adored her and everything she did for those she cared most in the world. That she simply needed to be sure Nicole would give her the freedom to achieve what she most wanted to achieve.

Nicole replied, Waverly sobbing as she read her words:

My dearest,

I am here to watch you fly.

Yours forever Red.

Nicole suggested they meet at Jeremy’s to discuss the arrangement. The carriage pulled up in the college courtyard, Waverly expecting to see Nicole inside. It was empty, her heart sinking, knowing she would have to ride alone to the cottage without the opportunity to speak in private.

Jeremy stood at the door, happy as ever to see her, ushering her inside, saying they had found a maid to clean and someone to sort out the chimney to make the fire draw more efficiently. He seemed very proud of himself. She looked for signs of Nicole, Jeremy leading her to the parlour, offering tea. “She’s resting. She still gets tired. Malaria is such a drain on the body.”

Waverly froze, her heart beating so hard it hurt. “She’s still sick?” she asked, the panic in her voice audible.

“She is over the worst. You can go up if you like.”

Waverly followed Jeremy up the stairs to the room in which Nicole would be staying. They entered, Nicole asleep, her bare arms showing, her hair loose about her shoulders. Jeremy smiled. “She's a soldier when awake, an angel when asleep. Have you not noticed?”

Waverly felt her emotions rising. “I have. Too many times.”

Jeremy left them, Waverly sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her Red. _Why didn’t you tell me?_ she thought. _Why? Why keep this from me?_

Nicole stirred, sensing Waverly’s presence. “I’m so sorry,” she said groggily. “What time is it?”

“Time you told me the truth,” Waverly replied, rubbing Nicole’s stomach above the covers.

“What would be the fun in that,” Nicole replied, pulling herself up, collecting her thoughts. “I knew I should never have teased you with wild beasties. They’ve come back to haunt me.”

Waverly gazed into Nicole’s eyes, the thought of losing her too much in the moment. Holding back the tears the words tumbled out. “You once told me caterpillars turn into butterflies.”

“I did. Knowing me I probably wanted you to eat one,” Nicole replied, shifting her position.

“Do you know what’s so interesting about butterflies?” Waverly replied.

“They’re edible?”

“They can’t see their own wings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waverly's final line is inspired by the following quote:
> 
> "Butterflies can't see their wings. They can't see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are like that as well." (Naya Rivera).


	18. the Profession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is telling the truth...

“But can you eat them?” Nicole teased, pretending to hold a butterfly, her mouth opening in readiness to insert the imaginary insect.

“Stop it,” Waverly replied, lowering her eyes, not wanting to give Nicole the satisfaction of making her laugh. “That’s cruel. You really are naughty sometimes. How can anyone have a serious conversation with you?”

“Oh, so you want serious. In that case, let’s play truth, or dare.”

“No. No dares. You’ll have me eating butterflies. I know you too well.”

Nicole stuck out her lower lip. “No fun. Fine. I dare you to tell the truth.”

Waverly looked at Nicole lying in bed, the top of her undergarment trailing open, the amount of skin showing making Waverly regret starting down this path. “I’m only answering nice questions,” was all she could think to say in the moment. What she really meant to say was, she was not prepared to answer any question that would have her reveal too much.

“Nice questions,” Nicole repeated. “I see. Nice questions. Nice questions. Oh, I have one. What is your favourite food?”

Waverly thought. “Not butterflies,” she replied, earning a grin from Nicole. “My favourite food would have to be cook’s treacle sponge, although your cook’s trifle recipe is divine.”

“Now you’re cheating,” Nicole said. “You’re only allowed one answer.”

“Then it has to be trifle. My turn. What was the first book you read?”

“Easy, ‘Treasure Island’,” Nicole replied, without thinking. “My turn. Where would you most like to be right now?”

Waverly thought. “Your mother’s scented rose garden, but then I suppose I can’t because it would have to be when the roses are in full bloom. Wait, I gave you that book. That can’t be the first book you ever read.”

“It was the first book I enjoyed reading.”

“Nicole Haught! Stop cheating. I won’t play if you cheat.”

“Fine,” Nicole replied, holding up her hands in mock submission. “I had books read to me by the nanny, which I don’t consider me having read. Let me see. The first book I actually wanted to read was in my father’s study. I was seven when I found it, in the drawer of his desk in his private sitting room. I wasn’t meant to be there. Certainly wasn’t meant to be looking in his private drawers.”

“Why were you?” Waverly asked, already guessing the answer.

“Simply because I was told not to go in. I was being chased by Edward, I think, so it’s his fault. The book was boring, no pictures. But, it had sentences underlined with pencil.”

“What kind of sentences?” Waverly asked.

“I didn’t understand at the time. So, I kept going back trying to guess some of the longer words. And then I found other books with pictures, of people doing things.”

“I really do not want to ask this? Doing what?”

Nicole grinned. “Oh, things. Without clothes.”

“I don’t believe you,” Waverly said, studying Nicole’s face, desperate not to laugh. “You’re cheating again. Pictures are not reading, you know that.”

“They are,” Nicole replied. “I read a lot into those pictures.”

Waverly laughed. “You’re only saying this to get a reaction. You think I don’t know you. You love to shock. Oh my God, that’s it. You love to say the most scandalous things, just to see how others behave.”

“Moi,” Nicole said, with her slight French accent. “But, you have me all wrong, mon papillon. So, Waverly Earp, who thinks she knows me, tell me, have you ever been kissed, on the lips?"

“That’s it,” Waverly said, jumping off the bed. “I’m not playing. Why did I ever think you’d play fair? I’ll leave you to your rest.”

As she reached the door she heard Nicole’s voice. “Do I still scare you?” 

Waverly felt the weight of the question, not able to turn round. “The game’s finished.”

“Waverly, look at me. Do I scare you? Yes, or no.”

Waverly turned to face Nicole. “Of course not.”

“Truth, or truth. In what way do I scare you?”

“That’s not fair. And no, you don’t scare me.”

“I’ll eat every butterfly in the garden if you don’t tell me. Is it my illness?”

“Yes.” Waverly said abruptly, not meeting Nicole’s eyes. “I don’t want to think of you being unwell.”

“And, that’s all that is troubling you. Nothing else?”

Waverly briefly glanced at her bedridden friend. “I shall visit often. Rest. Get well, for me.”

With that she left the room, pausing at the top of the stairs, knowing she had withheld the truth, sensing Nicole knew that too. She was tempted to return to the room, tell Nicole she was still scared. Scared of her feelings, of feeling that way, of not knowing how to express those feelings. 

She headed downstairs, Jeremy appearing from the kitchen with a plate of scones Robin made earlier, the pair sitting in the parlour, drinking tea, getting to know each other. She liked Jeremy the moment she met him. Jovial, pleasant company to be in, never took himself too seriously, yet with a powerful mind able to impart the right amount of information, at the right time, to make his point without it being laboured. 

Nicole’s carriage would be arriving at three to return her to college, on loan from her eldest brother who had an estate five miles north of Cambridge. She could comfortably have stayed with him, while visiting Waverly, preferring to do her own thing, in her own way, rather than be under the ever watchful eyes of her family.

Waverly watched the minute hand of the clock on the wall move closer to the time for her departure. Sad to be leaving, reluctant to go without first saying goodbye to Nicole, she opened the door to the bedroom, peering in, Nicole asleep, restless, beads of sweat on her forehead, clearly unwell. She approached the bed, placing a hand on Nicole’s arm feeling how hot she was. “Nicole, it’s me. I’m going.”

Nicole didn’t respond, pushing the covers away from her body, turning her head to one side. Jeremy appeared, telling her the carriage was outside. “I can’t leave her,” she said. “Not like this. She’s dreadfully hot.”

“Part of the illness unfortunately,” Jeremy replied. “My father had it for years. The fever doesn’t last too long. Go, I’ll see to her. You need to return to Girton.”

“No, I’m staying. Can we cool her? A cloth, or, I don’t know.”

“I’ll fetch a bowl of water. She’ll be better in a few hours. She must have forgotten to take her medicine.”

Removing her coat, sitting on the side of the bed, Waverly placed the damp cloth on Nicole’s forehead, watching as it soothed her friend, calming her movements, her eyes remaining closed. Waverly held her hand, gently rubbing it with her thumb to let her know she was there for her, allowing her to rest. Hours passed, the light was fading outside, evening approaching, Waverly knowing she was required to be back at the college before 8pm, torn between the rules of a college at which she wished to remain and not wanting to leave her poorly friend. Nicole stirred, mumbling a few words, Waverly unable to catch them. “Nicole, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Not with you in this condition.”

“You came back,” Nicole whispered, not quite making sense. “I dreamed. And, you’re here.”

“I dream of you, sometimes.” Waverly revealed, not wanting to give too much away. 

Nicole gripped her hand. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

“I won’t. Rest, you’re unwell. I wish you’d stayed at Wattlestone till you were well enough to travel. But, that wouldn’t be you. Would it, Red? You would go to the ends of the earth for the ones you love. You think I don’t know you. I know you better than you know yourself. Yes, you scare me, but only because you make me face my truth. You and I both know what that truth is.”

Nicole slowly opened her eyes, focusing on Waverly’s face, needing to tell her something important, a puzzled expression on her face, as if contemplating what to say next. Waverly felt Nicole’s hand pulling her closer. She leaned in to better be able to hear. “What is it?” she asked, Nicole still pulling her in. “What? Nicole, tell me.”

“I need you to know. I need to…”

“Nicole, what? What do I need to know?”

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” Nicole whispered.

“And, I love you too my dearest friend. Now rest.”

“No. You don’t understand,” Nicole insisted. She was now but a few inches from Waverly’s face, her warm breath on Waverly’s cheek. 

It happened so quickly, Waverly unable to resist, letting Nicole, soft lips on hers, shocked by the action, feeling herself pull away instantly. As she drew back, Nicole’s eyes were still on her face, looking equally as shocked at what she had done. “I…I’d better go,” Waverly stuttered, staggering back from the bed, not quite knowing where to go, or what to do. “I need to go.”

She rushed from the room, closing the door, leaning against the other side, her hand resting on her heart. _That was,_ she thought. _That was wonderful. My God, that was everything I imagined it would be. She’s…she kissed me and it was wonderful._

Jeremy had instructed the coachman to return at seven knowing Waverly needed to be in the college grounds before the gates closed for the night. She gazed out the carriage window on the short journey back, lost in her own thoughts, her pirate having found the precise spot where there was treasure. _I’m in so much trouble,_ she thought, as the carriage entered the college courtyard. _I shan’t encourage her, but I’m glad she did it. Finally._

That night she dreamt of young Nicole taking her hand, wearing only her undergarments, the top loose, revealing her right shoulder, leading her into her father’s study, saying she had something to show her. A book lay open on a large wooden desk, Nicole pointing to a drawing of two women, semi-naked, on a bed, the picture entitled ‘Lady Butterfly spreads her wings.’ _Shall we play?_ she heard Nicole ask. _Truth, or dare. Dare you to kiss me and tell the truth. Only if you kiss me first,_ she heard herself reply. Nicole’s lips upon hers. _I win,_ Nicole said. _Win what? Win what?_

She awoke, the room still dark, knowing she had a very long night ahead with Nicole haunting her. A note arrived from Nicole early afternoon thanking her for staying and caring for her while she was unwell. She made no mention of the other incident in her bedroom, which was just as well otherwise Waverly would have burnt it immediately for fear of it falling into the wrong hands. 

She was torn between wanting to see Nicole to clear up what had happened and not wanting to face her, not sure if she could ever look her in the eyes again. She made her way to the dining hall for the evening meal, a pile of books in her hands, spotting Nicole’s carriage in the courtyard. _No, no, no, what’s she doing here?_ she wondered. _Not here. I can’t discuss what happened here. Someone might hear us._

As she approached the coachman opened the door, Nicole waiting inside. Waverly hesitated, not wanting to get in, unable to walk away. Nicole held out her gloved hand, Waverly left with no choice but to accept the invitation. Neither spoke, nor looked at each other, as the carriage moved off, Waverly placing her books on the seat beside her, staring at her hands on her lap. 

“I’m returning to Wattlestone,” Nicole announced as they left the grounds of the college. Nicole placed a hand on Waverly’s. “It was wrong of me to be here. Please don’t let this ruin our friendship. I was not myself, but that is no excuse.”

“No. I…what happened…”

“I’m unwell. I’m placing that burden on others and it is unfair. I will return to the cottage when I’m recovered.”

Waverly felt a tear trickle down her face. “I will miss you.”

“And I you,” Nicole replied, knowing she had to clear the air. “What I did was wrong. I abused our friendship. Went too far, as is my nature. I hope in time you’ll forgive me.”

Waverly could feel Nicole leaving her, running away, emotionally disconnecting. “It wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t wrong. I wanted…I’ve wanted. Please don’t blame yourself. I wanted to.”

“You would not have but for me. I am a bad influence. Utterly selfish. Wanting what is not mine to enjoy. Taking without asking.”

“I didn’t mind,” Waverly replied. “Really. Because it was you.”

“Because of who I am,” Nicole corrected. “You accepted…you did it only because of who I am. Only that. You would never if I wasn’t...if I hadn’t...”

“No, no,” Waverly replied, now realising why Nicole had not done so before that moment. “You’re wrong. I’m not like this because of you. It’s inside me, just as it’s inside you, that’s all. You awakened something inside me, that’s all. That’s all you did. Like Girton, you showed me another way to be in this world. It’s my choice. Mine. No one is making me. Not you. Not anyone. I choose. Do you hear me? It’s my choice.”

Waverly looked over, Nicole’s eyes filled with tears, her heart breaking at the thought of the torment Nicole must be going through. She reached out, gently directing Nicole’s head with her finger to gaze into her eyes. “I choose. I choose you. I choose you.”

Her lips met their soft destination once more, the kiss lingering, the tension between them dissipating, the distance between their hearts reducing once more. She would have stayed locked in Nicole’s arms forever had it not been for Nicole pulling back, banging on the side of the carriage, ordering the coachman to turn round, heading towards the college.

As they entered the grounds, Nicole held Waverly’s hand firmly in hers, not wanting to let go. “I shall return in a few weeks, having rested. Speak to no one of this. It would not be wise.”

“I won’t. Will you write?”

“Every day. I promise. And, say nothing in your letters. I shall find a way to convey to you what is in my heart.”

“And, I too. To think I believed you had no interest in me other than as a friend.”

“What? The moment I saw you at the ball I knew I would never be able to look at another.”

“I felt the same. You were radiant that evening. I was quite jealous of Charles.”

“As I am of James,” Nicole replied. 

Waverly watched as Nicole’s carriage left the courtyard, blissfully happy at the thought of what had been said. Truths revealed, dares fulfilled, she too knew should never be able to look at another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French phrase: mon papillon = my butterfly.
> 
> The Victorian postal service in England was regular and fast. In London there were twelve (yes, 12..!!) deliveries a day, starting at 7.30am, the last at 7.30pm. Correspondence often carried the line "Return of post," meaning an immediate response, in time for the next scheduled delivery that day. Outside London, postal services were less frequent, but still sufficiently fast to be able to send a letter to someone for them to receive it the same day. 
> 
> Admission: I failed to factor in the distance a horse and carriage could travel in one day (doh), oh and where said horse, carriage and coachman might stay (double doh). A horse and carriage could travel up to 30 miles per day, if trotting. Cambridge to Wattlestone (Waddesdon) is 64 miles. There's no way Nicole would travel 2 days by carriage. So, to fudge this, let's assume Nicole travels by train for the best part of the journey, using a carriage from let's say her brother when she's in Cambridge. It's the best I can do, without reinventing the wheel (pun intended...which I don't think is a pun...?).
> 
> Lastly, quinine has been prescribed for centuries due to its anti-malarial properties. The discovery of quinine is considered the most serendipitous medical discovery of the 17th century and malaria treatment with quinine marked the first successful use of a chemical compound to treat an infectious disease. A component of the cinchona (quina-quina) tree, the bark was dried, ground to a fine powder, then mixed into a liquid (commonly wine) before being drunk. In 1820, the process of isolating and purifying quinine from the bark was perfected, replacing powdered bark as the standard treatment for malaria.


	19. the Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to navigate love, when the world is a hostile place...
> 
> Music mood: Jan Blomqvist - The Space In Between. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z54vFuGEVrM)

Waverly received her first letter from Nicole two days later. She wrote her brother insisted she stay with him, at least for a few days before making the journey to Wattlestone. A servant would accompany her, assist with her luggage and ensure she was comfortable on the journey home. She apologised again for having caused concern over her illness, assuring Waverly she was feeling much better.

She mentioned finding a butterfly in her bedroom, the colour of its wings the most delicate shade of green, trapped inside a room which, while large and dry and warm, offered the poor insect no freedom. She described how the butterfly fluttered its delicate wings, tapping them repeatedly against the panes of glass, calling to the world beyond, searching for a way out, seeking to join that which was within sight yet out of its reach. I simply had to do the decent thing, she wrote. I ate it. It tasted delicious. I hope to enjoy the taste of many more to come.

Waverly laughed, admiring Nicole’s inventiveness to talk about love, knowing at that time of year it was indeed possible to see a butterfly indoors having entered in autumn, fallen asleep only to wake believing it to be spring. How she longed to be that butterfly, to drink in Nicole’s dark eyes, to feel Nicole’s breath close to her face, to be consumed by Nicole’s lips. Lips that had set her free, lips that had allowed her heart to soar higher than she ever thought possible. She sent a letter back:

My dearest friend,

I am so glad to hear you are feeling a little better and have an opportunity to regain your strength before returning to Wattlestone. I will look forward to future visits, but only when you are well. That must be your priority above all other matters.

As to the butterfly. I am fascinated to hear of your encounter. How curious it chose your room to awaken this time of year. It must have sought the safety of your company in the depths of winter. That it should then meet its fate by being consumed by the person it looked to for release is somewhat unfortunate. And yet, to die in your mouth is perhaps the more noble way to depart this world than to be cast out into the cold wilderness.

Yours truly Wiggle.

Their silly letters to each other continued over the following weeks, Nicole’s ability to say something without it being said impressing Waverly, smiling to herself each time she read a phrase, or a sentence, understanding the true meaning. As much as she tried, she could never quite get the same effect, hoping not to be indiscreet, wanting to say so much more. 

She continued to accompany James on walks, glad of his company and his brain. She previously had worried how she would accommodate him and Nicole in her life, yet it now seemed perfectly acceptable to have both vying for her attention, never vain, always cautious, it provided her with balance, a kind of twisted reassurance that she was doing the right thing. Keeping up appearances, not falling too far for Nicole, as she so easily could do, knowing that would scare Nicole away faster than a scorpion. For the one thing she did know about Nicole was she didn’t do conventional. Unconventional definitely, conventional definitely not. Even their first kiss was unconventional. Nicole lying ill, semi-delirious, risking their friendship in a moment when both their guards were down. 

She wondered what would have happened if Nicole hadn’t made the first move, seized the moment. She imagined they would have drifted along as friends, passions simmering under the surface, each cautious not to jeopardise what they had on the surface for what lay bubbling underneath. Or perhaps, one of them would have got drunk, Nicole most likely, and grabbed at the chance to steal something precious. 

Isobel visited the first week in December, ever bubbly, impressed by the college, still as wicked in her observations of others. She announced over afternoon tea she was engaged to be married in the spring. She apologised for not having mentioned her beau before, hoping to be forgiven, asking Waverly to be her maid of honour, a request politely accepted. “You know James is quite taken by you,” Isobel said, placing her cup down. “He says you are quick to understand and pleasant company.”

“I have been fortunate to have his wise counsel,” Waverly replied, smiling graciously, hoping to fool her friend.

“I do believe he would ask for your hand, but for not wishing to interfere with your studies. To think you have someone so devoted, willing to wait for you.”

Waverly maintained her smile, sensing the barb in the comment, turning her gaze to the piece of cake on her plate. “He is ever the gentleman,” she replied, “which is what I admire most. Thoughtful to a fault, like you.”

“I dare say he will ask you the moment you finish Girton. To think we will be sisters. How exciting.”

“How exciting,” Waverly repeated, wondering how her life had become this complicated so quickly. 

_I’m not worried about being asked,_ she thought, picking up her teacup, taking a sip. _There is plenty of time to let this play out, given I have a few years here at college. Besides, my moment with Nicole may be nothing more than that. A moment. A fleeting moment, like that of a butterfly._

The Christmas holidays approached, Waverly intending to return to London to spend time with her family. Nicole had decided to remain at Wattlestone, at least until the end of January, the bitterly cold weather and threats of heavy snow making that a wise decision, accepting the need to regain full health before setting off on another adventure. Plus, the cottage could be cold on occasions, Jeremy acknowledging they probably should move somewhere more comfortable, even though their rented home offered seclusion and tranquillity. 

Nicole pestered her mother to invite the Earps, explaining she needed their company to raise her spirits, reassuring her it would not be too taxing on her health, suggesting her mother might like having her friend visit to cheer her up. Ever persuasive, Nicole got her way, eventually, sending a personal invite to Waverly, hoping she could make it. Waverly replied saying she would be delighted to visit and that her parents were looking forward to spending time with Nicole’s parents. 

The clatter of hooves on the gravel drive, the rocking motion of the carriage as it sped towards Wattlestone introduced an interesting chapter in Waverly’s life. There was a new sense of aliveness arriving at the house once more. No longer a child, no longer allowed to display too much emotion in front of others, even her own family, she sat quietly, focusing on the frosty view from the carriage window, a blanket pulled tight against her legs, trying as best she could to remain calm, not bring too much attention to herself even as her heart pounded against her chest, searching for release. 

Nicole’s mother emerged from inside the house as the carriage pulled up, waiting for her dear friend to exit, the warmest of smiles on her face. Greeting each other, they strolled arm in arm into the house leaving Waverly with her father to take up the rear. There was no sign of Nicole as she entered, wondering where she might be. _The nursery,_ she wondered, _or the library, the terrace, perhaps the pond._

She made her way upstairs, heading first to the library, nodding at a passing maid who curtseyed, embarrassed to be seen by a guest, avoiding eye contact. Entering the library Waverly cast her eye over the room, disappointed not to find Nicole, remembering her time there with Jinny and her journal, wondering what she was doing now, wondering if Nicole still kept in contact with her and the group of free thinkers. Older, a little wiser, Waverly considered it might be fun, at the very least amusing, to meet this group, hear their views, their philosophies on life. 

Her eyes were drawn to the window, a moth beating its wings against the pane, desperate for release. She worried if she let it out the cold weather would kill it, deciding to let it remain inside, trapped within its cosy confines, casting her eyes over a white landscape, several animal footprints visible along with a set of human impressions heading in the direction of the pond, Waverly guessing Nicole’s, probably there smoking without her mother’s interference. 

As she stood contemplating whether to venture outside hands covered her eyes, Nicole’s voice whispering close to her ear. “Did you miss me?”

Waverly reached up, placing her own hands over Nicole’s, allowing herself to catch her breath, her heart pounding. “Too much,” she replied, wanting to stay like this for eternity.

Nicole slipped her hands out from underneath, placing one on her hip, the other reaching round the front, releasing the first two buttons, pulling the high collar of Waverly’s dress away gently from her neck. Hot breath on skin, a ribcage rising and falling against her back, Nicole’s distinctive perfume entering her nostrils, filling her lungs. 

And then, the moment she longed for since being swept away in the carriage from Girton. Nicole’s lips on her skin once more, placing soft kisses over, and over, and over, more sensual than she had thought possible, letting out a whimper, her head spinning. Her hand reached out to support herself against the window, her legs shaking, about to buckle. Nicole’s arms were now round her waist, taking her weight, holding her up. “My, my,” she said softly, as she felt Waverly sink into her embrace. “I don’t usually have quite this effect on my lovers.”

Waverly’s eyes opened, forcing herself to concentrate on the moth dancing to its own tune before her, willing herself not to hyperventilate. As Nicole spun her round bringing them face to face she knew if she didn’t sit down she would fall down, Nicole recognising the expression on Waverly’s face just in time. The window seat provided the necessary support, Waverly gripping the edge with both hands, head lowered, her whole body shaking. “Give me a moment,” she panted, as Nicole knelt before her concerned by Waverly’s reaction. “Really, it’s just shock. I’m alright.”

“Can I get you a glass of water?” Nicole asked. “A bed, perhaps.”

Waverly held up her index finger, waving it to tell Nicole to stop teasing, not wanting to think of a bed at that precise moment, concentrating on her breathing. “I’m fine. A little too excited that’s all. I’m so glad to see you.”

“Clearly. I’m flattered at you swooning over me. You know I’ve longed to embrace you again, but now I’m worried I might kill you with my passion.”

Waverly looked up, the first time seeing Nicole’s face and those velvety-brown eyes. “You may well do so. And, I would die happy.”

“Then come to me my butterfly and die upon these lips that long to taste you once more.”

“Or, you could just kiss me,” Waverly replied. “But, be careful, I might be overcome by your advances.”

“Tally ho,” Nicole cried, pulling herself up, placing a knee on the window seat, capturing Waverly in her arms. “My God, you are more beautiful than ever. And, more desirable than any other in this world, and…”

“What are you doing?” Waverly asked, clearly sensing Nicole was stalling. “Are you, or aren’t you?”

“I’m nervous,” Nicole replied, releasing her grip a little. “You’re making me nervous. I’ve wanted to do this for weeks and now. I can’t believe I’m too nervous to…”

“Then allow me,” Waverly said, pulling Nicole towards her. 

Their lips found each other, the moment they both longed for arriving at long last. Waverly could have stayed locked in Nicole’s arms had it not been for the repeated tapping of the moth against the glass. Nicole pulled back, her eyes glancing at the insect seeking its own release. “Would you like me to eat it?” she asked.

“Let it be. It mistakenly believes the world outside to be a safe place.”

“I adore your mind,” Nicole said. “Although, I must say those lips of yours. My nerve has returned.”

“Later. I have so much to tell you.”

“So have I. Can we just do this for a little more?”

Waverly placed a finger on Nicole’s lips. “Wait. Isobel is getting married. She’s asked me to be her maid of honour.”

Nicole sat beside Waverly forcing her to move up. “Isobel is James’ sister. James will be at the wedding.”

Waverly nodded. “She says James is fond of me. That he will probably ask for my hand as soon as I finish my studies.”

“Is that what you want?” Nicole asked, not looking at Waverly, one hand tugging at the cuff of her dress.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. What I want, who I want most in this world is not…if I had a choice…”

“I understand. It was different with Charles. We both knew what we wanted and that wasn’t each other. We were perfect for each other so long as neither crossed that line.”

“Are you saying Charles never loved you?”

“Define love,” Nicole replied. “Did we care for each other? Most certainly. Were we physical? Never. We each knew where our bodily desires lay. And, it was not with each other.”

“Oh, I see. I thought. And, you were never tempted?”

“Never. I had my first experience of what I wanted at school in Geneva and never looked back.”

“Was that Shae?” Waverly asked.

“No. Another girl who told me she would give me a box of chocolates if I kissed her.”

“I’m assuming you wanted the chocolates.”

“Mais non. Can’t stand the stuff. Gave it to someone else in exchange.”

“Nicole! And Dora?”

“Oh,” Nicole said, shifting in her seat. “Well, that was interesting. She invited me to pose nude for her. How was I to know that came with benefits?”

Waverly laughed. “I’m sure you figured it out. In Paris.”

“Look Paris was a mistake. Une très, très grosse erreur. I thought taking my clothes off was love.”

“And, Jinny.”

“My word, all of them. Fine. Jinny captivated my mind, not my body. Where Dora lacked the reasoning skills to keep me interested, Jinny lacked the skills to keep the non-reasoning part of me interested.”

“And, me.”

Nicole stood, turning her body to face Waverly, going down on one knee. “I fought the feelings I had for so long,” she began. “I convinced myself you were beyond my reach. I contented myself with the fact I would watch your life from afar, be part of it, close enough to know you, never the one who brought you happiness.”

“I would never have made the first move. You know that.”

“I do. Yet, I wanted you to. So many times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French phrase: Une très, très grosse erreur = a big, big mistake.


	20. the Page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole shows Waverly something interesting...

“I wonder sometimes what my life would have been like had I not met you,” Waverly said, taking Nicole’s hand. 

“Less scary,” Nicole replied. “Probably less life-threatening. I still have nightmares about the cave. That was so stupid of me, even by my standards of stupidity. I could have lost you.”

“We kept each other alive. I remember you telling me a story to stop me being afraid. This may sound crazy, but I felt safe there, with you, knowing you would protect me.”

“Definitely crazy. Help. I’m in love with a crazy person. Help, help, someone rescue me.”

Waverly laughed. “There really is no one else like you. I’m not crazy.”

“Come, beautiful crazy person,” Nicole said, raising herself up, still holding onto Waverly. “I have something to show you.”

They walked to the door, Nicole dropping Waverly’s hand as soon as she opened it in case someone saw them together. She marched ahead, Waverly knowing where she was going, climbing the stairs behind her, the taste of Nicole still on her lips. As Nicole entered the nursery Waverly felt a shiver of excitement through her body. So many times they had been together in this room. So many times they had lain in the small bed, comforting each other. Now they were back, as lovers.

“I haven’t shown anyone this before,” Nicole said, going to a cupboard underneath one of the bookcases. “I keep everything here that’s important. It’s my secret treasure chest.”

Waverly sat on the bed watching Nicole remove a wooden box filled with toys, placing it behind her. “A box of toys,” Waverly said, wondering what Nicole was doing.

“No, that’s not it. I found a loose floorboard. Everything’s underneath.”

She pulled out various items, laying them on the floor, wiping some that were now dusty, particles dancing in the air around her body. The telescope they used on holiday, a small birdsnest with the remains of a pale blue egg resting inside, one of Ellie’s shoes and several books, Nicole studying the spines of each, selecting one, blowing more dust off its cover. “This is it. This is the book I was telling you about.”

“Is that my dolly’s shoe?” Waverly asked. “I wondered where that went.”

“Yes. Err, sorry. I found it in the bed and well, I was going to give it back.”

Waverly felt in her skirt pocket, pulling out the tin soldier she too had borrowed, conveniently forgetting to give it back. “It reminded me of you. I put it under my pillow at night. And, take it with me to class to make me feel fearless.”

“That’s…that’s really cra…sweet. Really sweet. I had no idea.”

“You were going to say crazy, weren’t you,” Waverly replied, bringing the tiny soldier up eye level, pretending to have a conversation with it. “She thinks we’re crazy. But, we’re not are we little one.”

Nicole brought the book over, grinning. “Never tell anyone I have this. Father was furious when he found it was missing. Blamed one of my brothers. No one suspected me, given what’s inside. Now, before I show you this, I need to make one thing clear it’s…let’s just say…it’s…”

“Adult,” Waverly interrupted. “The word you’re struggling with is adult. I can see the title. Is there a reason why you’re showing me this?”

Nicole thought. “No. Actually, there is absolutely no good reason for you to see this. Oh no, what was I even thinking? Perhaps, another time. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. I’m so stupid.”

Waverly could see Nicole’s flushed cheeks, the first time she had ever seen her embarrassed. “It’s perfectly fine you showing me. I won’t be shocked. Really. To think you trust me enough to let me into this secret world of yours. And, I’m the only one you’ve shown.”

Waverly prised the book from Nicole’s hands. “Please, please don’t think badly of me,” Nicole said as Waverly opened the cover. “Blast, this is the entire story of my life. The title of which should be, Nicole does the most stupid thing possible.”

“What this?” Waverly teased. “I hope not.”

“Not that”, Nicole replied pointing to the book. “Me not thinking things through. Just don’t judge me. Or, give me the look you give Wynonna.”

“Stop worrying. It’s fine,” Waverly replied, viewing the first photograph. “Good Lord. Right. Oh, oh…well, that’s an interesting position to be in,” turning the book sideways. “Gosh, mind you they look like they’re enjoying themselves.”

Nicole shook her head, unable to face Waverly. “Such a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. Do not look at Page 81, whatever you do.”

“And, now I’m intrigued. Why?” Waverly said, quickly skipping to that page. “Oh. That’s…that’s…gosh. Really leaves nothing to the imagination, does it?”

Nicole attempted to close the book. “I’m so sorry. Waverly, forgive me. This was completely the worst idea ever. And, now you can never unsee what I’ve shown you.”

Waverly held onto the book. “Remember I said stop protecting me. Now, I have only one question. Page 81. Have you?”

Nicole gasped. “You can’t ask me that. Not Page 81.”

“Well, have you?” Waverly persisted. “I’m curious what it might be like to do that. Truth, or dare.”

Nicole’s cheeks were now crimson, managing to bring her eyes to meet Waverly’s. “Fine. Paris. Once. Alright, twice.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Waverly asked. 

Nicole nodded. “It’s incredible in that position. It’s…”

Waverly snapped the book shut. “That’s good. Then I dare you to do that to me.”

Nicole’s mouth fell open. “I…I…you want me to…like that. Exactly like that. Are you sure?”

“I have had so many erotic dreams about you, mostly with your shirt unbuttoned to the waist. I need the tangible. I need to know what it’s like to stroke your skin, to see your eyes close as my fingers run over your body. I need to know how you would touch me, how you do the things in this book.”

Nicole’s mouth fell open again, no longer able to speak, her breathing faster and faster, wanting to take Waverly right there in the very bed they shared over the years. The thought of them performing Page 81 together too much to process. Her hands were shaking, a few beads of sweat appearing on her forehead, her eyes fixed on Waverly’s mouth. Leaning in she kissed her passionately, Waverly’s body responding, telling Nicole she was safe in the hands of someone who loved her, more than as a friend, but as someone wanting to be with her in every way possible. Including Page 81.

The book now lay open on the bed, on a new page, Waverly glancing down, her eyes widening. “Oh my, and Page 96 please.”

Nicole shut the book quickly. “There was me thinking you would be horrified to see this. I’m shocked Waverly Earp. Shocked,” Nicole replied, a grin appearing. “Fine. Yes. Page 96 too. I promise.”

Nicole returned all the items to her secret hideaway, Waverly asking if she could borrow the book, for research purposes. Nicole replying she wanted to surprise her, although secretly didn’t want Waverly getting too carried away given her enthusiasm after seeing only two photographs. “All in good time,” she said, closing the cupboard door. “All in good time. May I keep Ellie’s boot?”

“If you let me keep your soldier.” Waverly replied, patting her skirt pocket where the tiny toy had been stored.

Nicole placed the boot in her skirt pocket, taking Waverly’s hand. “I suggest we wait till I return to the cottage to experience those positions.”

“Why not here?” Waverly asked.

“You’ll understand, when…we might get caught given what might happen.”

Waverly gave Nicole a quizzical look. “Explain.”

“I can’t. I really can’t. You’ll understand. Trust me.”

“So, we aren’t going to sleep together here?” Waverly asked, her forehead creasing, the thought of being in bed with Nicole the main reason she accepted the invite.

“We have to be extremely careful,” Nicole replied. “If someone sees us. Or, hears us.”

“They won’t hear us if we’re quiet,” Waverly offered. “I can tiptoe to your room.”

Nicole shook her head again. “Oh, Waverly, Waverly, Waverly, you have so much to learn. Tiptoeing indeed.”

The pair returned downstairs, Waverly’s mother giving her a look, pointing to her open collar. Waverly immediately buttoned the top, now understanding fully what Nicole meant by being extremely careful. At lunch the conversation round the table was light-hearted, Nicole’s father congratulating Waverly’s father on his new senior position in the British Government, raising his glass to a new era of imperialism and trade. 

Without thinking he brought up Lord Asquith, asking if they would be working together, Nicole’s mother looking over at Nicole who was giving her father dagger eyes. “I’m having lunch with Asquith sometime in January. Terribly hard to get a firm date in the diary with that fellow. I’ll let you know when and perhaps the three of us could dine together.”

“I would enjoy that,” Waverly’s father replied. “Always good to hear his thoughts. Sound fellow.”

“Like his son,” Nicole’s father continued. “I hear he’s minded to follow his father. Nicole, have you heard from Charles lately?”

Nicole glanced over at Waverly, wishing her father hadn’t brought up his name, pretending not to hear the question. “Has he written to you?” her father persisted, clearly none the wiser to the faux relationship his daughter and this Charles fellow had maintained for appearances.

Nicole was tempted to say Charles was living with his male lover enjoying himself thoroughly, as far as she was aware. “No, I haven’t. Such a shame he had to stay while I returned to recuperate.”

“Priorities,” her father replied. “He knew his priorities.”

Waverly chased a few loose peas on her plate with her fork, Nicole catching her eyes briefly, giving her a look to say don’t laugh, or react. 

Her mother changed the subject quickly, asking Waverly how she was enjoying Girton. “It’s stimulating,” Waverly replied. “I’m finding most of the classes enjoyable. Advanced mathematics is a little harder, but still enjoyable.”

“Nicole mentioned you have someone helping you.”

“A friend of the family. The Hardys. James. He is at Cambridge. Final year.”

“The Hardys. I know them. I used to take tea with his mother when I was residing in London. And, Nicole has been helping you too?”

Waverly looked over at Nicole, who had her head down, hoping Waverly would be discreet. “Yes, she has. And, her friends too. I’ve instructed her not return until she is fully well.”

“At least when she is with you she cannot get into any trouble,” her mother replied, Nicole feeling herself sink into her chair. “I have always said you are a good influence on her. Better than that Virginia girl. Who fancies trifle?”

Lunch over, they strolled to the pond, Nicole lighting a cigarette as soon as they were in the woods, puffing on it a few times. “Want to try?” she asked, holding it out to Waverly.

“I’m a good girl,” Waverly teased. “A very good influence on you. Just one puff, to see what it’s like.” Waverly took the cigarette, drawing on it, coughing, handing it back. “That’s horrid. Why do you smoke those things?”

“Oh, you know. Bad girl. They’re not so horrid once you get used to them. I think that’s why I got drunk. Not the done thing. Nicole, a lady does not consume more than a glass mother would say.”

“Which made you consume a whole bottle. Or, several. As I recall.”

“Am I that predictable?” she asked. “I was hoping I give off an air of mystery. Clearly, I’m an open book to you.” Waverly didn’t answer, the grin on her face saying more than words. “My word, and there’s me with the bad girl label. Waverly Earp. What am I to do with you?”

“Page 81,” she replied. 

Nicole’s eyes widened. “I’ll give you Page 81. Right, for that I’m going to chase you, and when I catch you I shall kiss those lips of yours. Run, run as fast as you can.”

Waverly let out a small squeal, rushing on ahead, reaching the pond. Nicole caught up eventually, out of breath, the effects of smoking and her illness causing her to have to lean against a tree to allow her breathing to return to normal. Waverly was sitting on the log where she read Jinny’s journal, shifting along as Nicole sat down, still slightly out of breath.

“I used to dream of you chasing me naked through these woods. Catching me, kissing me.”

“Too cold for that. And, I’m too out of breath. I hate this illness.”

“What is happening with you and Charles?” Waverly asked.

“As I said. Too cold for that. Honestly, my father thinks Charles and I are as good as married. I’ve explained to mother I’m not going back. She understands. But, then she would.”

“Why?”

“She understands. That’s all I can say.”

“That’s not an answer. Unless.”

“Unless. Page 81.”

Waverly gasped. “Your mother. I had no idea. Are you sure?”

Nicole nodded. “That’s why we need to be extremely careful.”

“And, she knows about you?”

“She knows about me. As long as she doesn’t suspect you we should be able to continue at the cottage.”

“But, she let you and Jinny. Jinny was here. She allowed that. I don’t understand.”

“Jinny was allowed to stay under strict orders I didn’t go near her bedroom, or she mine, or do anything with her anywhere to embarrass the family, or the staff.”

“So, you got drunk. And, found my bedroom instead. Should I be pleased, or offended?”

“I really did want to find your bedroom. I wouldn’t have slept with Jinny. Not if it caused a scene. It’s the reason father paid for Charles and I to travel together. He assumed it would hurry things along, mother knew it would get me away from Jinny and her friends.”

“You could have said no. You didn’t have to go.”

“And lose my inheritance. Mother feels particularly guilty at my illness. She blames herself. Which is all to my benefit. If I play this right.”

Waverly sat quietly for a moment, taking in everything Nicole was saying. _Does she want me because she can’t have Jinny,_ she wondered. _What if I’m merely a distraction? Nothing more. This could simply be a game to her. Am I the sacrificial pawn?_

Waverly rose, walking away, not looking back, not wanting Nicole to see her eyes. She felt a fool. To think she would have gladly let Nicole do every page with her, only to find Nicole playing her by her own rules. 

Nicole dropped her cigarette, giving chase, reaching for Waverly’s arm, feeling the resistance. “What’s wrong? Waverly, what’s wrong? Have I said something to offend? Tell me.”

“I’m not a piece in your game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smoking in Victorian times is interesting, both in terms of what was smoked and by whom. Smoking in England has a long history, dating back to the sixteenth century, tobacco primarily smoked in pipes by men. Snuff (tobacco powder sniffed from the back of the hand) and cigar smoking gradually became popular, but it was only after the Crimean war cigarette smoking became popular.
> 
> By the 1860s, cigarette shops were appearing through industrialization of cigarette manufacture. By the '80s Wild Woodbine had become one of the most popular cigarettes in the country and the price of cigarettes had dropped to as low as a penny.
> 
> If a woman from the "better" classes smoked, in the middle-years of Victoria's reign, it was an indication that she was "fast." But as time moved on, so too did the attitudes toward smoking. Although, as late as 1891, a newspaper reported a row in a café when a woman tried to light her cigarette and was told women were not allowed to smoke there. She was requested to stop, but refused. When her companion threw a bottle at the waiter's head and broke a panel behind his target, the police were called in. The court was sympathetic given the defendant was only fined for the broken panel.


	21. the Positions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly needs to understand Nicole's position...and vice versa...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 4 Trailer...that's it...!
> 
> This time last year, we still didn't know if there would be a Season 4. 
> 
> I remember the buzz when the announcement was made. 
> 
> July 2nd 2019...!
> 
> We did it.
> 
> .

Nicole could only watch as Waverly ran off through the trees, unable to move as fast, unsure if she should give chase. “Wait,” she shouted. “Waverly, wait. I can’t keep up.”

Waverly was gone, leaving her to the stillness of a once-happy playground in her absence. Not a sound could be heard, not even Waverly’s footsteps on fallen leaves, an eerie emptiness only winter has the ability to express. She returned to the log, lighting another cigarette, gathering her thoughts, trying to figure out what Waverly meant by a game, what caused her sudden, unexpected mood swing, one moment sexually suggestive the next huffily hoofing it away. 

She studied the pond, the ice thick enough to walk on she assessed that time of year, although a fresh dusting of snow across the surface would make it more difficult to see where any thin patches might be. She was tempted to find out, tempted to risk a dunking, to see if she could still reach the other side, for no other reason than she needed to do something, anything to alleviate the dull ache in her chest, knowing age was against her, slower than when she last ventured out beyond the safety of land.

Waverly emerged from the wood, marching towards the house, not looking back, hoping not to meet anyone. _She still has feelings for Jinny,_ she thought. _Her mother knows she likes Jinny, so she’s biding her time with me. She cheats. She always cheats. And, she steals. You take what doesn’t belong to you, with no thought for the other person. And, you're selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish._

Heading to her bedroom, locking the door, she no longer wanted to be in the same house as Nicole, wishing she didn’t have two more days to endure being gracious and polite. She wanted to scream at Nicole for leading her on, making her believe they had a future. _What future? There’s no future. I should have realised. All those stupid letters and silly games. Leading me somewhere I shouldn’t be going. All to keep her amused, while she waits for that woman. Wynonna was right. Believe half of what Nicole says, and half again._

Waverly hoped she would be left in peace to stew in her own misery, not wanting to discuss her feelings with Nicole, not sure how. No past lovers, no idea how relationships worked, no one to talk through her feelings for Nicole, the only person she had been prepared to let into her heart now hurting it, definitely cheating on it, she concluded. _I’m just as good as Jinny,_ she thought. _Why doesn’t she see that? Why can’t she love me like her?_

She stood at the window, her warm breath hitting the pane, unable to escape. She wiped it with her sleeve, spying Nicole approaching the house. She saw her look up, saw her face change as she drew near spotting the butterfly trapped behind glass, the distance between them further than ever. 

She heard the door handle rattle, a soft knocking. “Is this about Ellie’s boot?” Nicole asked, hoping to break the tension. “You can have it back. Can I have my soldier?”

“Go away.”

“Fine. You can keep the soldier. I’ll leave the boot by the door.”

“What did I ever see in you?”

Nicole tried the door handle again, looking both ways along the corridor, checking if anyone was within earshot, sensing Waverly might be about to say something to jeopardise their whole relationship. “Waverly. Wiggle. Let me in for a moment. To talk, in private.”

“No. Leave me alone. I don’t want anything more to do with you.”

“Waverly,” Nicole insisted. “Open the door. I can’t talk out here. You know that.”

She heard the lock release, entering quickly, closing the door behind her. Waverly returned to the window, her slender figure silhouetted in the light entering the room. Nicole stood for a moment taking in the vision before her, so close yet so far away, the person who had a hold over her like no other. She would do anything for this beautiful crazy creature if only she would be allowed. So connected to her, she knew if Waverly’s heart stopped beating hers would too, instantly. 

Nicole remained near the door, worried if she approached it would likely cause more confusion, or raised voices, giving the game away. “Whatever this is about,” she began, her voice soft. “Whatever you think this is about. Sorry, what is this about? I’m at a loss. I really am.”

“Can’t you guess?” Waverly snapped, not turning to face the person being accused.

“If I could guess, I wouldn’t be asking you. Please, tell me. You’re evidently upset about something. Is it the book? We don’t have to. That’s not important. It was wrong of me showing you.”

“Just go. And, take your stupid soldier,” Waverly said, pulling the toy from her pocket, throwing it on the bed. 

Nicole realised this was more than simply a misunderstanding. Something had disturbed Waverly to the point she might be about to flee. This wasn’t the Waverly she knew, calm and collected, thoughtful, a joy to be with, someone who made her feel alive, the one loyal to her, devoted to her, the one she trusted enough to show her all the treasures she had hidden.

Daring to approach, she picked up the tin man, holding it out as a peace offering. “It’s yours. Please, please tell me what’s upsetting you. I can’t bare seeing you like this. It reminds me of when you hurt your head. You crying, not wanting me, wanting Wynonna to carry you. My heart broke thinking you were rejecting me. And, it’s breaking now. I will never do anything to hurt you. Never.”

Waverly turned her head slightly. “You still want Jinny.”

Nicole recoiled at the statement. “Jinny! No…I…Is this why you’re upset? You think I’m in love with Jinny.”

Waverly nodded, feeling justified in her accusation and slightly foolish at having acted in such an immature fashion. “You’re using me. You’re just with me because you can’t be with her.”

“That’s crazy. Of course I’m not using you. How could you ever think that? Waverly, I have a past, I have people in my past who will remain dear friends. Jinny is one of them. She’s gifted and perceptive, opens my mind when she says something profound. But, she’s not you. She will never be you.”

“Don’t lie to me. Don’t treat me like a fool. I was going to let you do everything…and, you would have. You would have me, while wanting to be with someone else.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have shown you that book. I’m an idiot. I’ll never learn. Waverly Earp, listen to me, I’m not with Jinny. I’m not with Charles. Or, anyone else. I’m with you. I’m not easy to love, I recognise that. I don’t know what to say to make you believe me. Trust me. I will never, ever cheat on you. Not with my mind, not with my body, not with my heart.”

“But, you said you’ll lose your inheritance if you don’t play this right.”

“Yes. If I don’t play this right with you. I’m not letting my mother come between us as she did with Jinny. Do you understand?”

“Maybe. I’m not happy with you.”

“I meant what I said at the cottage.”

Waverly leant her head against Nicole’s shoulder, the pair gazing out at a naked landscape. “I’m scared.”

Nicole wrapped her arms around her lover’s waist. “I know. I know you are. I understand that now. This is all new for you. This. What we’re doing. It’s scary. But, we have each other. Do you hear? We will always have each other.”

Waverly let the tears come, a potent mix of frustration and fear needing release. She turned her body, arms finding Nicole’s waist, holding her as she had done all those years ago in the cave when the dragon’s roar was at its fiercest. Nicole now understood how fragile this beautiful creature was in her arms. And, she loved her more than ever. “I’m not letting you go,” she whispered. “I’m not losing you.”

“Can I have the soldier back?” Waverly whispered. “I’m sorry. It’s just...”

Nicole brought her finger to Waverly’s lips. “I am the one who should apologise. And, the soldier walks the plank at sunset.”

“Nicole!” was all Waverly could say before Nicole captured her lips. 

Nicole left first, checking no one was in the corridor, Waverly pouring water from a jug on her dressing table into a bowl, splashing her face. Her eyes betrayed her emotional state, hopefully not too noticeable as to have someone pass a remark. _If I didn’t love you as much as I do,_ she thought, as she patted her face, _this would not mean as much to me. I will have to trust you with Jinny. I hate that woman._

The families gathered in the main drawing room after their meal that evening, having decided to swap presents early. Christmas was a week away, Waverly and her parents invited to spend time with Wynonna and Edward, Willa and her family hopefully joining them, a chance for all the nieces and nephews to be together, the only time they had an opportunity to do so.

The parents chatted amongst themselves, thanking each other for the generous gifts, a silk scarf from Nicole’s mother to Waverly’s, a box of the finest cigars from Waverly’s father to Nicole’s. Nicole waited for most of the presents to be handed out, reaching under the tree for a small box, no bigger than her hand, holding it out for Waverly to open. “It’s rather silly,” she admitted. “But, I’m hoping you’ll like it.”

Waverly undid the bow, letting the ribbon fall across her hands, pulling off the lid of the box. Inside was a shell, larger than any she had seen before, the most delicate pink. She lifted it out, studying its shape, its contours. “It’s very pretty,” she said, after a few moments. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I purchased it in Constantinople,” Nicole explained. “As soon as I saw it, I thought of you. If you hold it to your ear you can hear the sea.”

Waverly held it to her ear, the rushing sound taking her back to that one time, the only time she had ventured near a beach. “Oh my, it does. It really does. Mama listen. It’s the sea.”

Everyone took turns to listen to the sound made by holding the shell close to their ear. Nicole’s father attempted to explain the phenomenon, failing having had one too many glasses of champagne to the amusement of those listening. The last present to be unwrapped was the one Waverly bought for Nicole. A box of Fortnum and Mason’s finest chocolates, Waverly mouthing the word sorry, as the contents were revealed. Nicole smiled graciously, knowing she would collect her kiss later.

Several hours of piano playing followed, Waverly now an accomplished pianist, much to the delight of everyone listening. A duet with her mother received the loudest applause, both deeply embarrassed at being the centre of attention. Waverly retired to bed shortly after eleven, making her way up the stairs to her room, wishing she was still young enough to sleep in the nursery. 

She decided to pay it one more visit, careful not to make too much noise on the wooden staircase, looking behind in case she was spotted.

The room was in darkness as she entered, only the moonlight through the window giving any sense of where things were. Her eyes made out the cupboard where Nicole kept her buried treasure, tempted to borrow that book, for research purposes she told herself. Not daring to go in, she remained at the door, her hand holding it open, gazing at the small bed, wondering how they ever fitted in it together as growing adults.

“I knew you’d come here,” a voice whispered in her ear, hands on her waist. “I could spend eternity with you and never grow tired.”

“I’m sorry about the chocolates. I didn’t know. I’ve got you something else.”

“The chocolates are perfect. Highly appropriate.”

“So, I’m guessing you want that kiss.”

“No,” Nicole replied. “We wait. If I kiss you now I will not stop.”

“A little kiss,” Waverly pleaded. “I need to feel you again. Please.”

Nicole pulled back. “Goodnight Waverly Earp. Sweet dreams.”

With that Nicole made her way downstairs, her bare feet silent on the wooden stairs, leaving Waverly with the most intense desire she had ever felt. _You will be the death of me,_ she thought, as she lay in bed. _I adore you, Nicole Haught, and love you, you pirate you._

They decided not to open their secret gifts to each other until Christmas day, Nicole instructing Waverly to do so in the privacy of her bedroom. Christmas morning Waverly awoke to the chimes of bells from the nearby church, beckoning worshippers to the celebration. She pulled out the tiny box from under her pillow, sitting up in bed, removing the wrapping paper. As she lifted the lid, her heart leapt, a delicate butterfly charm on a gold necklace, its wings a shimmering green. She held it to the light, watching as the sun danced across its surface, pulling it to her heart.

Nicole had spent a restless night. A fever having started on Christmas Eve, forcing her to retire early, her mother sitting with her for most of the night keeping her cool. She hated being ill, hated having to rely on others, hated not being invincible.

The fever broke in the early hours of Christmas morning, her mother deciding to leave her sleep, hoping she was over the worst. She placed a kiss on the forehead of her daughter before leaving. “You are the closest to my heart,” she whispered. “I should never have let you go.”

Nicole slept for most of the day, stirring only when a maid came to close the curtains. “I knew you would return,” she said, without opening her eyes. “You haunt my dreams.”

“Ma’am, it’s Florence. I be here to make you comfortable for the night. Your mother will be here shortly.”

Nicole’s eyes remained closed. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight, ma’am. Is there anything you be needing?”

“A kiss,” Nicole mumbled, half-asleep, Florence not quite sure she heard correctly.

“Your mother is bringing soup.”

Nicole’s eyes opened, her senses returning. “Thank you. I am not myself. If you could let my mother know I’m awake.”

The maid curtseyed, Nicole waiting until she had left the room, pulling her legs over the side of the bed, pausing for a moment before making the next move. She knew what she wanted, the gift Waverly bought for her. Knowing there would never be anyone else in her life. Her mind, body and heart aching to be with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why was Waverly jealous of Jinny? Afterall, she could equally have been jealous of Charles, or Dora.
> 
> Victorian women were generally inexperienced (naive?) when it came to relationships. Often only having one beau, or potential partner, whom they would court with the expectation they would marry, sex within marriage the first time they would be physical with anyone. Nicole has a past and experience, the only person Waverly really knows is Jinny, so her fears about becoming romantically involved with Nicole were placed on her, irrationally. Add to that the secrecy required to maintain their relationship, not being able to discuss her feelings with anyone but Nicole, and being less reckless than Nicole, I figured it would affect her. Negatively. Well, that's what I guessed. 
> 
> From PsychAlive: Falling in love challenges us in ways we don’t expect. The more we value someone else, the more we stand to lose. Consciously and unconsciously we become scared of being hurt. To a certain degree, we all possess a fear of intimacy. Ironically, this fear can arise when we are getting exactly what we want, when we’re experiencing love as we never have or being treated in ways that are unfamiliar. It isn’t just the things that go on between us and our partner that make us anxious; it’s the things we tell ourselves about what’s going on.


	22. the Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did Waverly buy Nicole...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a beauty, an innocence to what Wayhaught are going through. How to express this, knowing how different our lives are today. Trying to show each other how much they cared, how much they wanted to be with each other. I hope I've done this a little justice in the way they had to show love, through tokens. How sad...and yet, how tragically romantic...!
> 
> Music mood: Max Richter - On the Nature of Daylight (thttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVN1B-tUpgs&list=RDUwaBoX97PbQ&index=9)
> 
> .

Nicole opened her jewellery box, extracting the gift from Waverly, returning to her bed. Carefully untying the knot at the top of the pouch, she pulled out a handkerchief, the corner of which had embroidered in red the outline of a heart inside which were their initials. 

Except, Waverly had combined the letters to spell the word: WHEN.

Nicole stared at the design, her mind blown by Waverly’s ingenuity, bringing it to her nose, recognising her perfume. That one gift was enough, and yet Waverly included another, wrapped in a piece of paper, held within the folds of the handkerchief. A silver sixpence, one side of which had been altered with an engraving of a sailing ship. The most intricate of designs on a small coin, complete with three masts and full sails, a flag at the stern and a series of wavy lines depicting the sea. The coin was bent to create its own wave, so as not to be spent by mistake.

The paper enveloping the coin held a message from Waverly:

My Red, 

Think of me when you hold this coin. 

Your Wiggle

Holding the coin between her fingers, she was determined to return to the cottage as soon as able, to be near her true love. Replacing the coin in the paper, the paper in the handkerchief, the handkerchief in the pouch, she slipped it under her pillow, laying down once more, closing her eyes, the happiest she had ever felt. 

Her mother entered, a maid following with a tray, placing it on the table by the door, curtseying before leaving them alone. “How are you feeling my dearest child?” her mother asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Much better. A little tired still. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to join everyone downstairs.”

“Nonsense. You need to rest, recover your strength. I instructed cook to make you her special soup. The one you like. And, there is a bowl of trifle.”

“No champagne,” Nicole asked, checking the tray.

“Nicole! You know you can’t drink. I can stay with you if you like.”

“Thank you. I’m minded to go to Cambridge when term starts. Jeremy needs my help on his thesis and Waverly is struggling with her biology classes.”

“I thought it was mathematics she found difficult,” her mother said. “To think James Hardy is courting her. Excellent match. The Hardys are very respectable and Waverly will make a good wife.”

“She does have a knack of doing the right thing,” Nicole replied. “And, choosing the right person.”

“I have always liked Waverly. Such a sweet-natured child, so thoughtful. And, Wynonna too with Edward.”

“They are a lovely family. Would you mind handing me the trifle?”

“Soup first, then you can have the trifle,” her mother instructed, bringing the tray to the bed. “I explained to father you will not be able to return to Charles, given your condition. It is for Charles to decide whether he wishes to return to England.”

“I doubt he will. Too much to lose if he does. His position in Khartoum is too important. I know father thinks he’ll go into politics. But, the Charles I know is too shrewd a businessman.”

“That maybe so. Which leaves you without a husband. To be married would give you sufficient freedom, I can assure you. So long as you didn’t cause any embarrassment.”

“You mean, so long as I didn’t associate with any radical thinkers.”

“Those radical thinkers are not to be trusted. They are merely using your good name, your family’s good name to promote their ideas. You are far better associating with the Earps than that Virginia person. I don’t know what you see in her. No manners.”

“I shall take your advice and associate with the Earps in future. This trifle is delicious by the way.”

“Nicole!” her mother exclaimed. “You do try my patience.”

Nicole gave her mother her cutest smile, batting her eyes. “But, you love me.”

“I love you dearly. Make sure you have the soup before it gets cold. Honestly, what am I do with you?”

Nicole waited for her mother to leave, moving the tray to one side, extracting the pouch from under her pillow, holding it close to her heart. “If mother says I need to mix with the Earps, then so be it. I’ll take my mother’s advice for once.”

Christmas day with Wynonna and Edward was magical. The children were excited, Waverly spending time playing dolls with the girls, Alice hugging Ellie, Waverly’s extra present to her, telling her about all the adventures of her precious doll, telling her about a naughty pirate who tried to steal her once. “Where’s Ellie’s other boot?” Alice asked, rubbing the doll’s foot. “She’ll get cold.”

“The pirate stole the boot one night, while I was sleeping.”

Alice gasped. “The pirate might come for the other boot, while I’m sleeping.”

Waverly laughed. “I think Ellie is safe. That pirate won’t come for the other boot. I promise.”

“How can you be sure?” Alice asked, clearly worried she might wake up to find a pirate in her bedroom trying to steal her aunt’s doll. “Pirates are bad. They take things that don’t belong to them.”

“Once,” she replied. “Once. Not anymore. I can assure you. This particular pirate is very sorry for what they did. Plus, I stole something of theirs.”

Alice gasped again, eyes wide. “Did you? Did you really? Oh, aunty you’re a pirate too.”

Waverly winked. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Waverly was going to show Alice the tiny tin soldier, but decided best not as it might bring too much attention to it, have someone ask her why she had it in her pocket. She also knew it wasn’t the only thing she had stolen from Nicole. 

She had her heart, as Nicole had hers.

They gathered round the piano after lunch, the children made to sit quietly and listen to Waverly play, then her mother. Afterwards Alice came and sat with Waverly at the piano, her aunt showing her how to play a very simple tune, her mind recalling the first time she sat next to Nicole watching her perform, promising herself she would practise, and practise, to be able to play as well as her friend.

Wynonna suggested they take a walk in Green Park to give the children some exercise and a chance for Willa and their mother to catch up, having not seen each other for some time. The park was unusually busy when they entered, the children running on ahead, Alice holding back, walking with the youngest child, making sure he didn’t trip over his feet. “She’s like you,” Wynonna said of Alice. “She’s a tiny version of my petal.”

“I think I scared her a little with my story of the pirate who stole Ellie’s boot.”

“Where did that boot go?” Wynonna asked. “Always wondered, given how careful you were with her.”

“Nicole. She found it, forgot to give it back.”

Wynonna rolled her eyes. “I should have known. How is she? I hear she’s not going back to Africa. Can’t blame her given how ill she’s been. Edward says she’ll remain at Wattlestone.”

“The illness takes a lot out of her. I’m surprised she made it home. I think their mother blames herself for making her go with Charles.”

“Edward thought it madness to go. He told her so, but I believe she was given little say in the matter. Her mother was adamant. Did you know their father funded the entire trip? Hundreds of pounds. I’ve suggested to Edward he should ask his father. I quite fancy the idea of a few months in a warmer climate.”

“I believe her parents were upset with the company she keeps.”

“Can’t blame them. So, how is James? You’ve not mentioned anything about him.”

“James is perfectly fine. Bought me a lovely brooch.”

“I like James. Isobel I struggle with. A little too cutting with her words for my liking.”

“But funny, as long you’re not the target of her tongue. Wickedly observant.”

“I would be perfectly happy for you to marry James, but for Isobel. Speaking of which.”

“I have to finish Cambridge first. And, James has to establish himself. Plenty of time.”

“Don’t leave it too long. Children can be exhausting. Better to have them while you’re young.”

The drumbeat of a respectable life was getting louder with each passing year. There really was only one profession open to her once she finished university. Marriage. Preferably to someone who had sufficient wealth and position in society to maintain her status. As the daughter of an independently wealthy and prominent politician, Waverly was a desirable catch, James knowing this all too well when he began courting her. As much as he admired Waverly for her beauty and her mind, he really was after her family’s connections, hoping to use them for his own political ambitions.

He would never admit this outright, but Waverly guessed already he liked her father as much as he liked her, his efforts to help her at Cambridge a way of demonstrating to her father he had a sound mind and good judgement. 

In many ways, Waverly didn’t mind being used by James. She didn’t love him, not in the way she loved Nicole. Would she be prepared to marry someone she didn’t love? Perhaps. If it meant having a ring on her finger to stop tongues wagging. Her only fear was if that ring stopped her seeing Nicole. She would do nothing to jeopardise that relationship. _Oh, to be able to love the person I want,_ she thought. _To be free to be with her without secrecy. To be able to show the beauty of my love to the world. Still, at least I have a love like that._

January 5, 1904. Nicole’s twenty fourth birthday, most of which was spent in bed, gazing out the window at the snow falling, or reading Treasure Island for the hundredth time. Waverly had left another present for her birthday. A beautiful green silk scarf with tiny blue butterflies as the design. Nicole’s mother was impressed with the choice, nodding approvingly, checking the label. “I must say this is exquisite. It will suit your colouring perfectly. What did I tell you about the Earps? All down to their mother.”

Nicole smiled, knowing the secret message behind the present, knowing she would bring it with her to Cambridge. Page 121 she reminded herself, holding the scarf in her hand, trying to picture Waverly in that position.

Waverly had been back at college a few weeks when she received a letter from Nicole telling her she was much improved and was hoping to return to Cambridge by the end of the month. Waverly wrote back immediately saying she looked forward to her return and hoped the cold weather was more to her liking, rather than heat and sand.

Nicole’s shell sat on the shelf over the fireplace in her room at college, friends admiring it, holding it to their ear, astonished at the sound. Many had never seen the sea, many had never ventured further than their own home towns, or cities, and Cambridge. When she explained it had been purchased in Constantinople her friends were at a loss to know where that was, Waverly having to show them on a map in one of her books, silently smug at having such a well-travelled friend. 

Nicole’s carriage entered the courtyard on a frosty morning at the start of February, Waverly making her way to the entrance, the coachman jumping down as soon as she emerged through the porter’s door. “Did you miss me?” Nicole asked, as she entered the carriage.

“Not in the slightest. Far too busy telling everyone about your shell. They all want to meet you. Especially knowing you’re a Girton girl. You’re more popular than me.”

“To be expected. The stories I could tell them. Did you know roasted sheep testicles also pop in the mouth?”

“Nicole! No I did not know that. Or, want to know that for that matter. I am not letting you anywhere near my friends. You are far too naughty.”

“Will you let me near you?” 

“I might do. And, I’m not happy with you refusing to kiss me at Wattlestone. You made me feel things and then left me to my imagination. That’s not fair.”

“My imagination has been worked extremely hard too. Your perfume on the handkerchief nearly drove me insane. That was too cruel of you, especially in my weaker moments.”

“I’m sorry. I simply wanted you to think of me whenever you held it to your nose. I wanted to be close to you.”

“Mother thinks you’re perfect for me,” Nicole remarked, a glint in her eye, extracting Waverly’s handkerchief from her leather glove. “I agreed with her, for once. You are perfect for me. In every way. And, so clever of you to combine our initials in that way.”

“I adore your necklace,” Waverly replied. “I’ve not worn it as often as I wanted, for fear someone passing a remark and having to lie about how it came to be in my possession.”

Nicole nodded. “I understand. It was unwise of me to give you something that might draw attention. I have, however, taken a leaf from your book and had a coin engraved.”

Nicole handed Waverly a small black box, similar in size to that which would hold a ring. Waverly opened it, a silver sixpence sitting inside, where a ring might be placed. “My heart would buy you everything, but this is the best I can do under the circumstances. I hope when you hold it you will think of me too.”

Waverly studied the design on one side, closing the box, leaning over to kiss Nicole on the cheek. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“I couldn’t decide what design would be best to give you. Yours was precisely what I would have chosen for myself. The design on my father’s vase.”

“Correct," Waverly replied. "On reflection, I think it better reflects freedom. You have my utmost trust to go where you please, with whoever you please so long as you return to me. And, so long as no beds are involved. Do you hear?”

“I hear. I have no intention of going anywhere other than where you might be. I am anchored to you. My rock, my place of shelter.”

“Oh, it’s an anchor,” Waverly acknowledged. “Oh, I see. Yes, I can see it now.”

“What did you think it showed?” Nicole asked, at a loss to know what other meaning the design on the coin she was giving Waverly could have.

“Page 81.”

Nicole gasped. It was the first time Waverly managed to shock her, genuinely shock her, for which Waverly felt particularly proud, but also a little embarrassed. Nicole took the box from Waverly’s hand, taking out the coin, laughing. “Oh. Oh, yes. Gosh. Now I see it. Waverly Earp!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victorians had a novel approach to showing their love for another. Using a standard coin, a silver sixpence being popular, they would have it engraved with sentimental messages, to be carried for luck by the recipient. Sometimes referred to as ‘crooked coins’, the sixpence would be bent to create a wave, in a bid to prevent it from being used. One side of the coin would be smoothed down to remove the monarch’s head, with a new design engraved on the flat surface.
> 
> The coin I described with the ship on one side can be viewed here: https://www.sandysvintagecharms.com/pages/love-tokens
> 
> An anchor is symbolic of hope in that when lifted it represents a new adventure, a new voyage. For many, this metaphor is symbolic of leaving the past behind, setting sail on a new journey. It also symbolises steadfastness. The ability to not be swayed despite the chaos that may surround us, regardless of how uncertain things may seem. And, of course, to Waverly it represents Page 81...!


	23. the Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole knows what she wants. But, does Waverly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason Waverly's character comes across as being a tease. Will she, won't she. That's not the intention. To me, she's inexperienced, confused and in need of guidance. I wonder who could give her that...!

Nicole’s carriage pulled up outside the cottage, Robin greeting them at the door. “Jeremy is at the university this afternoon. Just me for company today. I hope both of you had a pleasant Christmas.”

“Delightful,” Nicole replied. “I have a food hamper and cake. Mother insisted. And, quite a few cases. The coachman will unload them for me.”

Entering the parlour Waverly could see the place had been given a thorough clean, a fire roaring in the hearth and Jeremy’s papers no longer littering every surface. She listened to Robin and Nicole chatting, nervously rubbing the soldier in her pocket wondering how she was going to handle being alone with Nicole in her bedroom. 

Robin stopped in mid conversation, a look on his face suggesting he had forgotten something, leaving the room quickly. Nicole turned to Waverly. “Is everything alright? You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m glad you’re back here. Are you well enough?”

“As well as can be. My bouts of fever are less severe as long as I do not exert myself. I must say being here has renewed my spirits.”

“Won’t you be bored? Is this not too soon? You could have stayed with your mother until spring when the weather is a little warmer.”

Nicole studied Waverly’s face. “You do want me here?”

“Yes, of course. I’m just thinking of you. I don’t want to think of you being inconvenienced.”

“I’m good at amusing myself. Remember. If I get bored, I shall run round the cottage dressed as a pirate waving a stick. I’ll be fine. I assure you.”

Waverly’s eyes went to the door, the sound of footsteps on the stairs telling her Robin had begun to take Nicole’s cases upstairs. “Will you be warm enough here?” she asked. “This house is quite chilly.”

Nicole patted her hand. “Shall we go see what Robin is doing?”

They met him coming downstairs. “I must say, the new maid has been busy getting everything ready for you. Gave your room a jolly good clean. Never seen so much washing and ironing. Only comes here two days a week, which suits us.”

Robin turned, leading the way upstairs, Nicole following, Waverly at the rear, hearing the door open, the creak of its hinges, a shaft of light falling on the stairs. She waited outside, letting the others enter, Robin handing Nicole the key. “I’m popping out shortly,” he said, winking at Waverly, who remained in the doorway. “Let you get settled.”

Nicole plonked herself on the bed, bouncing a few times. “It’s so good to be back, not having my mother fussing all the time. If I have one more bowl of chicken soup. Waverly come try it out. Doesn’t squeak too much.”

Waverly stayed by the chest of drawers nearest the door, no longer sure she wanted to do anything quite yet. The few images she viewed from the book in Nicole’s possession were swirling in her head, the thought of being about to perform even one with another person more scary than being stuck in a cave with a rising tide. “I’m…I’m fine here for the moment. Did you want me to leave you to unpack?”

Nicole could see Waverly’s unease, in need of reassurance. “Robin, why don’t you give us a few moments?”

“Let me know when you want your other cases brought up. I’ll leave you two girls alone.”

He closed the door, his footsteps on the stairs, the sound of the kitchen door shutting. Nicole approached, watching as Waverly backed into the chest of drawers rattling the vase, containing fresh flowers, placed on top. “Come sit,” Nicole said, holding out her hand. “Come, I promise we will do nothing.”

Waverly took her hand, reluctant at first to go near any bed, trusting Nicole enough to be guided. She sat with her head down, feeling foolish, worried about knowing nothing, assuming Nicole knew pretty much everything. “I’m sorry,” she said after a few moments. “I thought I was ready. But…”

“My darling, we need do nothing here. This is not why I’m staying. This bed is my bed. Not our bed. As much as I desire you, this is not something to be rushed. You are too precious to me, too important to have this moment ruined by impatience.”

“I do want to. It’s…I don’t know what to…I haven’t. Ever.”

Nicole took Waverly’s hands. “I know. I understand. We talk. We hold hands, if you want that. We eat together. We discuss mathematics, and Aristotle, and Descartes. That is what I want to do with you more than anything in the world.”

“We can kiss,” Waverly offered, her shoulders lifting slightly.

Nicole laughed. “We can kiss, too. If that is what you want. You are the sweetest thing to have ever entered my life. Our lives collided in such a way that we are here now.”

“You still like me even though we won’t…”

“Let me see. Do I like Waverly Earp? Tricky, very tricky. I would have to say no, given you stole my soldier.”

“You stole Ellie’s boot,” Waverly countered, momentarily lost in Nicole’s deep brown eyes, her lips parting slightly, wanting to kiss her, unable to make an advance, given their conversation. “Wynonna said I should consider marriage sooner rather than later. I’m at a loss to know what to do.”

“My mother and Wynonna must be in league with each other,” Nicole replied. “I too have had a similar conversation involving marriage. I understand their concerns, but it really should be no concern of anyone else.”

“But, what do we do? I will marry if it means keeping everyone happy. I will make that sacrifice.”

“I know you will. And, you will be the dutiful wife to James. Allow him to fulfil his ambitions while you stay home tending to his children. A beautiful mind lost, a beautiful character dulled by the expectations of society.”

“I’m not like you. I’m not brave like you. I’m not able to fight what is expected of me by everyone.”

“You may be mistaking my stupidity for bravery,” Nicole replied. “My love, we do not need to be brave. We will be smart. The first thing I learnt from my brothers was not to get caught. The second was do what I want, while not getting caught. Do you want to know the third thing I learnt?”

“I’m guessing not to get caught,” Waverly replied.

“Correct. If you get caught, blame someone else.”

“So, what you’re saying is don’t get caught. Does that mean I marry James, or, not?”

“Waverly, I’m saying we make this work for us. If that’s what you want. If you truly wish to marry James we will make us work within that arrangement. If it isn’t, I will always be there for you. Always. No matter what.”

A knock on the door halted their conversation, Robin entering with another of Nicole’s cases, Waverly hopping off the bed as soon as he entered. He smiled, completely unfazed, placing the case by the window. “I’ll bring the other cases up later, if you don’t mind. Really need to get to the shops before they close. I’ll be gone about an hour.”

Waverly waited until she heard footsteps on the stairs, standing beside the bed, her body facing Nicole. “So, you and I won’t sleep together. Here. Ever.”

“It is entirely your choice. I will never do anything unless you tell me to. I will be guided by you. Only you. What you desire, what you want from me, that is for you to instruct me.”

“But, you know more,” Waverly replied, her brow furrowed. “I don’t know how to. I don’t even know how to kiss properly. It’s all new. And, I might get it…”

Nicole took Waverly’s hands once more, looking up into dancing green eyes. “Wrong. Do not doubt for a moment that this, what we have, is new to me too.”

“But, you’ve been with others. You’ve been with Dora and Jinny. You know things.”

“That may be so. I know of things. I have experience of giving and receiving pleasure. Physical pleasure. But, I’ve never been in this situation. This is as scary for me as I’m sensing it is for you.”

“How can that be?”

“Because, Waverly Earp, I’ve never been in love. That changes everything.”

Waverly sank to her knees, resting her head on Nicole’s lap, feeling the softness of her woollen skirt against her cheek. Closing her eyes, she could have stayed in that position forever. “I adore you. I want to make you happy. In every way possible.”

“You do,” Nicole replied stroking her hair. “Every time I am with you. It has always been so. My restless soul stills when you are near. Now, let us get to work on my cases.”

Waverly returned to college that evening having shared a meal with the others, the conversation round the dining table stimulating. She couldn’t think of anywhere she would rather be, listening to Jeremy and Robin’s theories on social reform, Nicole inputting her views, making the occasional comment herself. They agreed to see each other only at weekends, whenever James was not visiting and if her studies permitted. Nicole was content to bide her time, visiting other friends, or her sister-in-law. 

_I want to make this work,_ Waverly thought, lying in bed. _I want what Jeremy and Robin have, but I can’t see how I’m going to get there. If I marry James, at least that will keep my family happy. But, it’s not fair on him. It will be a lie. And, I will be cheating on him if I remain with Nicole. I can’t see a clear path._

That night she dreamt of the house by the sea in Cornwall where the two families holidayed together. She stood alone at the window in the bedroom where Nicole first showed her how to use a telescope, the instrument in her hand once more. She brought it to her eye, adjusting the focus, spying Nicole waving to her from a distance. _Oh to be with you, my love._ And now James was in the room, his voice behind her, asking what she was looking at, taking the instrument from her, seeing for himself what she was spying. And now Nicole’s mother was in the room, telling her to leave her daughter alone, to not meddle in affairs that didn’t concern her. And now Wynonna was in the room, shaking her head, telling her she would never have children if she carried on with Nicole. 

“Stop!” she cried out, opening her eyes, taking in her surroundings. Empty, those haunting her dreams no longer in the room. She felt under her pillow for the tiny soldier, rubbing it, not wanting to close her eyes for fear of returning to where everyone was telling her what to do. _And, where was Nicole,_ she thought. _I’m having to deal with everyone and she’s not even in the room. She’s waving at me, blissfully happy while everyone is shouting at me._

Nicole was fast asleep in the cottage, none the wiser to Waverly’s nightmare. She woke the following morning refreshed, the sun dancing in through her window welcoming a new day. At breakfast the three continued their discussion on Socrates from the previous evening, Robin departing shortly after nine to attend a family meeting, hoping to receive an increase in his allowance with a view to renting a larger, warmer house in the centre of Cambridge.

Jeremy cleared the breakfast plates, thanking Nicole again for the generous food hamper. “Would you be agreeable to us being nearer the town?” he asked, scraping the remains of Robin’s breakfast into the compost bin. “Personally, I would prefer to stay here, more discreet. But, I accept Robin needs company. You should have seen his face when he knew you would be staying with us.”

“It would allow me to be nearer Girton,” Nicole acknowledged. “Waverly could visit more often.”

“She is a delight. A little young perhaps. Although, sensible and discreet.”

“Perhaps. I worry I’m a distraction, but I need to be near her. She is my reason to live.”

“Does she know that?” Jeremy asked. “She’s courting someone. You may have your heart broken if she intends to go through with the marriage. She does not strike me as someone who would go against the wishes of others.”

“She says I changed her life. I know she’s only at Girton because of me. She would not be there had I not ventured out first. I don’t want her following me all her life. I want her to find whatever sets her alight. Give her wings to soar above others.”

“Like grouse,” Jeremy teased. “To be plucked from the sky by those who fail to see a beautiful winged creature rising above heather without needing to shoot at it.”

“I believe mother included grouse pate in the hamper,” Nicole replied. “I agree. She’s young. And, beautiful. And, intelligent. And, scared. As I am of losing her. I nearly lost her once. Actually, come to think of it twice.”

“Rather careless of you. Do you know if you have her heart? Does she know she has yours?”

“Oh, she has mine. I’ve told her as such. Do I have her heart? I believe so. Although, maybe not. I’m causing her pain, confusion. She’s torn between my love and what her family expects.”

“Never good. I expect Robin to return with a list of instructions from his family about who can and cannot stay in his house. At least he can use your good name to justify the need for a decent property, with decent heating. This place is so bloody cold sometimes.”

“So, you would move for Robin, even though you like it here?”

“In a heartbeat. You know that. Nicole, sadly we’re two of a kind chasing our butterflies wherever they wish to go, holding out our hand waiting for them to settle, enjoying their beauty but for a fleeting moment.”

Nicole laughed. “How appropriate to refer to our lovers as butterflies.”

The weekend arrived, Nicole’s carriage collecting Waverly from college shortly after 9am, Nicole remaining at the cottage catching up on correspondence. Jeremy let her into the house, pointing upstairs, Waverly not even bothering to take off her coat. She bounded up the stairs, flinging open the door, startling Nicole, who wasn’t expecting such a dramatic entrance.

“I must know,” Waverly said, closing the door behind her. “I have to know. If I’m to marry James you have to show me. You can’t remain at a distance. It won’t work.”

“A very good morning to you too, Waverly Earp,” Nicole replied, trying to fathom what she had just heard. “Make what work?”

“Us. I had a dream. Actually, a nightmare. With everyone in the same room. And, you weren’t there. And, I need you to be there. And, us. I need to know.”

“Sorry, know what?”

“Your body.”


	24. the Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly thinks she knows what she wants. Nicole makes sure she does...
> 
> .

Waverly began to unbutton her coat, her leather gloves remaining on, her woollen beret slightly skewed to one side on her head. Nicole watched, bemused at yet another change of heart by Waverly. Coat removed, flung on the bed, she began to release her Girton tie, tugging the knot away from her neck, slipping it with one hand. With her tie hanging round her neck, she managed to get two of her blouse buttons undone before realising she still was wearing gloves.

Her hands shaking, she struggled to release the dainty button at the wrist, fumbling to get her fingers to perform what normally would be an easy task. “Are you going to help me,” she demanded, bringing one glove to her mouth, hoping her teeth would have better purchase. It was no use. The gloves remained on. “Nicole! Are you going to just sit there and watch?”

“Oh, definitely sit here and watch,” Nicole replied, confusion turning to amusement as she witnessed Waverly’s desperate desire to rid herself of clothing. “I’m rather enjoying the performance. Do continue.”

Waverly howled with frustration, abandoning her attempt to extract her hands from their coverings, returning her attention once more to her blouse. Nicole put down her pen, turning her chair slightly to have a better viewing position, one arm slung over the back. “Nicole, help me. And, stop looking at me. It’s putting me off.”

“I can close my eyes if you like. But, where would the fun be in that? And, no I will not help you. If you want to remove all your clothes in my presence then you must do so on your own.”

“Fine. Then I won’t. See if I care.”

“Oh, but you do care. You care very much, otherwise you wouldn’t be doing this.”

“I hate you. I really hate you right now,” Waverly shouted, returning once more to her gloves. Managing to pull one off, she threw it on the floor. “There. See. I don’t need your help. I can do it by myself.”

“Well done. And, now the other glove.”

“Don’t patronise me," Waverly screamed. "Don’t you dare patronise me, Nicole Haught. I’m doing this for you. Don’t you realise.”

“Precisely. You’re doing this for me. For my entertainment. What about doing this for you for once. Are you not important enough to merit consideration? Or, are you going to remain a doll forever?”

Waverly stopped, her ungloved hand hovering over the button of the gloved one, Nicole’s words sinking into her. “I am doing this for me. Damn you. I’m doing this for me.”

Nicole picked up the glove, handing it to Waverly. “Don’t thank me.”

“I’m not going to,” she snapped, snatching the glove, no longer knowing what to do. “You’ve ruined the moment. You want me to marry James, don’t you?”

“Waverly, come, sit, tell me what’s worrying you. Tell me why you came rushing in like this.”

Waverly sat on the chair vacated by Nicole, leaving Nicole to find the edge of the bed. “Everyone is telling me what to do,” she began. “I had the telescope, but James took it from me and he saw you. And, you were happy without me. You were waving and you were so far away from me.”

“Right. So, if I’m reading this correctly, you and James were in a room and I wasn’t. But, you saw me through the telescope. Then James saw me through the telescope. And, apparently I was happy.”

“Then your mother told me not to be with you. And, Wynonna said I wouldn’t have children if I was with you.”

“I see. And, what did you say to all these people telling you what to do?”

“Say? I…I didn’t say anything. Well, not directly. I woke up shouting stop if that’s what you mean.”

Nicole smiled. “It’s a start.”

“Now James has the telescope and he can see what we’re doing.”

“And, you’ve lost me again. Why should it matter if James has the telescope? It was a dream.”

“Because you said don’t get caught. He saw who I was looking at.”

“That’s some dream. So even though James caught you looking at me, and everyone was telling you not to be with me, you wanted to come here and make love to me.”

Waverly nodded. “I thought I would lose you. I thought everyone would keep me from you. And, everyone would be happy because I wasn’t with you. But, I wouldn’t be happy because I wasn’t with you. And, then I’d never know what it’s like being with you. You won’t leave me will you? I don’t think I could bear that.”

“I can assure you I won’t leave you. I might have you certified, but I promise I will visit you every day in the asylum.” She could see Waverly’s eyes beginning to fill. “No, no, Waverly, I’m teasing you. Here, come sit by me, let’s work through this.”

Waverly pulled her other glove off, positioning herself next to Nicole. “Can we lie down? I want to be near you.”

“Of course we can. You’ll need to take your boots off first, and perhaps that,” Nicole replied, pointing to Waverly’s beret. “Mind you, it would have been interesting if you had kept it on.” 

The pair lay together, Waverly snuggled into Nicole’s body, Nicole stroking her face. Content in each other’s arm. And then, Waverly’s hand tentatively moved to the top button of Nicole’s waistcoat, working her fingers to release it, then the next, then the next. Nicole could feel what was happening. “Waverly Earp, what are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing. Only, I need to be close to you. Is it alright if I do this?”

“Perfectly, but only if you want to. And, don’t be surprised if I start breathing a little faster.”

Waverly continued until all the buttons on the waistcoat were undone. Her hand moved to Nicole’s blouse next, starting the whole process again, slowly releasing each button. “Is this alright?”

Nicole nodded, her hand touching Waverly’s. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I no longer care if James has the telescope and can see us. Or, if everyone’s shouting. I need you.”

Nicole’s eyes closed, allowing herself to enjoy Waverly revealing her body. The tug on her blouse to untuck it from her skirt waistband made her let out a long sigh, the room becoming still, as if holding its breath waiting for the next sensation, willing Waverly to touch her, take her in, make her skin come alive. Not daring to open her eyes, she bit her lower lip, the waiting agony. Seconds became hours, each breath an eternity away from the moment when Waverly would be the closest she had ever been.

“Can I?” Waverly asked, a finger touching the top of her undergarment. “Can I place my hand on you?”

Nicole nodded frantically, trying to hold back, giving Waverly all the time she needed. “Yes, yes,” she panted. “Yes.”

She had been touched before, many times before, but this was completely new. Beyond lust, beyond physical excitement, the moment approaching when skin would be on skin and it was agony. No matter how hard she tried, her body was taking over, in need of this contact, in need of final confirmation Waverly wanted her physically. And then, when she thought she could wait no more, Waverly’s hand slipped underneath her garment, brushing against her, resting her fingers against her, the gentlest of touches and her world exploded before her closed eyes.

She heard her own deep moan leaving her body as she gave herself over, a ringing in her ears as she let Waverly enter her soul, wanting nothing more than this moment. Waverly’s hand was still inside her undergarment when she opened her eyes, gazing deep into those green pools. “I love you. I love you. Do you hear me? And, no one is getting their hands on you.”

Waverly kissed her on the cheek. “I may sort of love you too. If that’s alright.”

“I’ll let you. After what you’ve just done, I’ll let you.”

Waverly blushed. “I don’t care what anyone says, this is what I want. This. You. Not James. No one else. I can’t believe how scared I was. And now.”

“And now what?”

“And now, it feels like the most natural thing to do. Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“Not lately,” Nicole replied, feeling her own eyes begin to water. 

“You are. I can see your wings. Oh no, Nicole, I’m so sorry, please don’t cry. I don’t want to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’m happy, really happy. Really, really happy. I’m here with you, like this and you want to be here, like this. Because you want to be here. You want to be here with me. I’m not making any sense.”

“Can I ask you something? Waverly said, removing her hand, resting it on Nicole’s hip. “You can say no.”

“Anything. I’m guessing the answer will be yes after what you’ve just done.”

Waverly hesitated, wanting to ask, afraid of Nicole’s response. “Can you do that to me? I’ve wanted to know what it feels like. And, you feel wonderful. I want to know if it feels the same.”

“Oh God, I can. You’re sure this is what you want?”

Waverly unbuttoned her blouse to her waist, pulling it out from her skirt, letting it hang loose. “I’m a pirate now.”

“An extremely beautiful pirate if I might add.”

Nicole pushed the blouse off Waverly’s shoulder, waiting for her to remove her arm, the tie falling to one side. Her hand went to the lace bow holding the undergarment in place, gently pulling on it, letting it come free. She slipped her hand underneath, moving it free of Waverly’s shoulder, letting it fall down revealing her upper body, eyes taking in what was before her, a sensual delight in all its exquisiteness. 

Her hand glanced over the top of rounded flesh not wanting to rush anything, not wanting the moment to be upon them too soon. Waverly’s eyes were fixed on her, lips parted, her chest rising and falling ever faster, as lost in the moment as she was. Nicole dipped her head down, the smell of her lover intoxicating, her eyes closing once more to allow all her other senses to take over.

And then lips found succulent skin, the sensation making her own body pulse with anticipation, her tongue reaching out to taste what was now freely available. She felt Waverly’s hand grab her shoulder, she heard the moan leaving her lips, the jolt of Waverly’s body against hers. And, then a scream as Waverly let go, releasing her fears and letting go, tumbling into the moment, finally understanding what it felt like to have someone pleasure her.

Waverly was still shaking as Nicole pulled back, revelling in the effect her tongue had had on Waverly’s body. Returning the undergarment to its original position, she studied her lover’s face, eyes shut, panting, and the slight hint of a smile. Her finger brushed against Waverly’s lower lip, her own senses heightened, feeling every contour. “I adore you Waverly Earp,” she whispered. “I will adore you till the day I die.”

Waverly opened her eyes, now darker, much darker, the green drowned by inky-black pools. “That was. I have no words. I’ve never felt like that. Never. Thank you. Oh, my word thank you. Now I know.”

“Hard to explain until you’ve experienced it. And, that’s just the start. I promise you it gets better. So, so much better.”

“How can it be any better than that?” Waverly asked. “That was. I have no words.”

“Oh, it does. I can take you to places you could not imagine.”

“Here is quite nice,” Waverly replied. “I like it here. Like this. Even though you said we would never in this bed.”

“Here is quite nice,” Nicole repeated, a grin appearing. “Oh, my precious lover, here is very nice. I’m talking about pleasure. There’s so much more.”

Waverly never wanted to leave, resting her head on Nicole, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. They would have stayed that way had it not been for the loud knock on the door. “It’s Robin. I have some news. Can I come in?”

“No!” both shouted.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Only, I think I’ve found us a house. I’m taking Jeremy to view it now. Wondered if you’d like to come with us.”

Nicole looked at Waverly. “Whatever you want to do.”

“We’ll stay here,” Waverly called out. “Nicole is giving me a biology lesson.”

“Right. Oh, right. I see. Jolly good. We’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Waverly Earp!” Nicole said, once Robin’s footsteps were heard on the stairs. “You’re a very bad influence.”

“I know. And, it feels wonderful.”

The house in the centre of Cambridge was perfect. Enough rooms for everyone, light pouring in through large windows, airy and with plenty of space for Jeremy’s papers. Nicole was impressed on her first viewing, offering to up her contribution, Robin refusing, saying her company was payment enough. They now had fires, working fires, and electric lighting. There was even a shower contraption over the copper bath, much to Jeremy’s amusement. 

Friends were on hand to move all of Jeremy and Robin’s accumulated possessions into their new home at the start of March. A party was hastily organised for the following weekend, to allow friends to come see the new house. Waverly arrived shortly before six, the walk from Girton to Nicole’s new residence taking no more than ten minutes. The college was strict about unchaperoned women walking in town, Waverly no longer caring, her mind made up she would do as she pleased when it came to being with Nicole.

James had invited her to a dinner party that evening with other couples from Cambridge, Waverly declining, saying she needed to study for a biology test. She certainly hoped she would be studying biology that weekend. Nicole’s to be exact, a skip in her step as she approached the house. She rang the doorbell, waiting for someone to let her in, the door opening to a sight she never expected.

“Hello my dear. Long time.”

Waverly’s mouth opened, shocked to see the one person she thought was no longer part of Nicole’s life standing in the doorway with a glass of champagne in her hand. “Jinny. You’re here.”

“I am. Nicole invited my brother and I couldn’t resist tagging along. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why should I mind?” Waverly replied.

“I understand you and Nicole are much closer now. I’m so glad.”

Waverly stood silent on the doorstep, wanting to knock the glass of champagne out of Jinny’s hand and the smug smile off her face.

“Where are my manners, do come in. Nicole is in the kitchen. She’s told me all about you. I always knew you two would make a perfect pair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victorian clothing would be alien to us today. Women would not wear trousers until the 1940s, most dressing in heavy layers of shirts, and skirts, and petticoats.
> 
> The top undergarment I refer to was essentially a loose vest, made of cotton, pulled together by a ribbon to stop it falling off the shoulder. Long knickers would be worn underneath, later something called a combination was worn, which is the two combined. Figures were defined by a corset.


	25. the Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I see trees of green, red roses too...the world is Waverly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One year ago we learnt Season Four of Wynonna Earp would be funded.
> 
> I joined the fight to save the show purely by chance in February 2019, not really sure what I could add, knowing even being present on Twitter might help. And, the call went out to email those in charge of funding. So I did. I started emailing IDW, every single effing day, telling them why I thought they would be crazy to let something as good as Wynonna Earp die after three seasons. 
> 
> And, I joined a group of fellow fighters, and we started something called 'GIF' parties. I'd like to say I invented GIF parties. I may have done...seriously, too drunk to remember. And, there was a group of us, posting tweet after tweet of silly GIFs replying to everyone else's GIFs. And, the party grew. And, we kept it going, because a) it was really, really funny, b) it meant we were helping to keep the #FightForWynonna hashtag trending. 
> 
> And, there were others who bought slots on digital advertising boards in Times Square because one Earper came up with the idea. I held back, because so many others were doing a fantastic job. But, when the announcement came we'd got S4, I paid for a sign and it was the best money ever spent. And, NY Earpers filmed it, and, I stayed up till 3am waiting to see my sign appear. And, it did.
> 
> And, fuck me...it was the best feeling in the world. Jen Riven was commentating with her Elmo costume on, even though she was baking inside. And, I felt part of something so good I don't think I'll ever be able to top it.
> 
> Happy Wynonna Earp Day...!
> 
> Love you all.

Waverly smiled graciously at Jinny, entering the house, nearly bumping into Robin who emerged from the parlour, clearly drunk and in a very good mood. “Waverly, Waverly, you made it. Let me take your bag for you. So good you could come. Jez is somewhere, Nicole’s somewhere too. You must meet everyone.”

“Thank you. I’m looking for Nicole.”

“Come, let us go hunting for her. She’s been busy making cocktails. Frightfully good. Had three already.”

They headed for the kitchen, Waverly spying Nicole talking to an unusually tall gentleman she did not recognise. “Waverly come meet Thoby,” Nicole said on seeing her enter. “May I introduce Jinny’s brother, another Trinity fellow. I told him you’re at Girton.”

The tall gentleman held out his hand. “Absolute pleasure to meet you, Miss Earp. How are you finding Cambridge?”

Waverly shook his hand politely. “Stimulating. Do forgive me, Nicole could I speak with you a moment.”

Waverly dragged Nicole to the hall, now filling with other guests. With no other place to speak in private, she yanked on Nicole’s hand to follow her upstairs. “Is this another one of your disrobing moments,” Nicole teased, receiving no response from Waverly. “We really should stay and meet the guests. They might wonder where we are.”

Reaching Nicole’s room, Waverly pushed her inside, closing the door after her, locking it. “What is that woman doing here?” she demanded.

“By that woman, do you mean Jinny?”

“Of course I mean Jinny. And, why have you told her about us? I bet she loved hearing all about what we did at the cottage. How could you?”

“Wait, wait. Waverly sit down and let me explain.”

“I’m not sitting anywhere with you. You’ll go straight to Jinny and tell her everything.”

“Fine. Then I’ll sit. Firstly, I did not invite Jinny, Thoby did. Secondly, I have said nothing to her about us. Nothing. I repeat nothing. However, Jinny being Jinny is perceptive enough to know why I might now be in Cambridge, given you are here. Thirdly, why does it matter if Jinny is here?”

“Because,” Waverly replied, no longer sure why Jinny’s presence was all that important. “Because, she knows you. And, she knows what we might do. Together. Alone. Here.”

“I see. So, if I’ve followed correctly, Jinny being here is not the problem. Jinny having been in bed with me is the problem.”

“Yes. No. I…and, you didn’t say anything to her about us?”

“No. I’m hardly going to say I’ve kissed your breasts and they were divine. Better than I ever imagined. Mind you, knowing Jinny she would delight in such information. She really does like you, if you would give her a chance.”

Waverly felt her stomach flutter at the mention of being kissed by Nicole in the manner described. She still had the sensual memory of that moment in the cottage, which had replaced her dreams about telescopes and family berating her over Nicole. “I do like her. She’s interesting. And, different.”

“Interesting, and different, and definitely not in my bed,” Nicole replied, glancing over at that piece of furniture. “Are you staying? I can have the carriage return you to college if you wish.”

“I’m staying. I have a pass from the porter for the weekend. I lied and said I was going home.”

“Waverly Earp, you’re getting as bad as me. Where’s your bag?”

“Robin has it. I think.”

“You know, you really are more passionate than I would have believed. I’m quite enjoying it. Makes you interesting and different. I’m also very agreeable to you being jealous.”

“Ha ha. I’ll show you interesting and different Nicole Haught. I’m merely concerned what others know that is none of their business.”

Nicole grinned at her lover, reaching out for her hand, pulling her close. “Our love is our business. Very much our business. Let us not keep our guests waiting. I want to show off the most beautiful woman I have ever met to everyone.”

The party was a success, Robin was in fine form the entire evening, insisting on an impromptu singalong round the upright piano he managed to acquire from one of his relatives. Waverly played a few pieces, then a duet with Nicole to the delight of those few guests still remaining. Jinny and Thoby had left early, staying at another house in town, promising to return and have lunch in the future, Waverly warming to the idea she and Jinny might be friends. 

Nicole was right. Jinny was perceptive of people without having to be told. It was as though she could see behind the mask everyone presented to the world, peering into a person, understanding them better than they perhaps understood themselves. A gift, and a curse, causing others to be wary of her. She had learnt how to channel this gift through her writing, something Waverly noticed in her journal. 

Jinny had no intention of causing friction between Nicole and Waverly, in fact she had her own life to enjoy, a new lover and the welcome prospect of some of her early writing being published. As much as she enjoyed the company of Nicole, she knew Nicole’s heart lay with Waverly, recognising her attitude to Waverly in the library that day at Wattlestone was a sign of her interest in her younger guest. An interest that was more than passing.

“I’ll admit Jinny has a charming way about her,” Waverly said, as she followed Nicole upstairs. “The way she listens when someone talks to her. It’s as if she’s reading their mind.”

“She does,” Nicole replied, opening the door to the bedroom, turning on the light. “In a way. It’s unnerving at first. I thought it was a trick, until I got to know her. And yes, she listens not just with her ears, but her eyes, and her heart. She also has an incredible sense of smell. She can tell if someone has been in a room simply by their scent.”

“Her brother is a little intense. I saw him watching you throughout the evening.”

“Ah yes. Thoby. Desperate to bed me, but as I explained to him my interest lies elsewhere. Poor chap.”

“Jinny was right. You draw lost souls in, leading them to their fate, dashing their love against the rocks.”

“Did you have one too many sips of champagne Waverly Earp? You sound positively poetic this evening.”

“No. I had two glasses. That’s all. I noticed you sipping one, which I’m hoping means you’ll kiss this stranger.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” Nicole teased. “Although, I’m desperate to. Our encounter at the cottage has done nothing but fan the flames of my ardour.”

“Who’s being poetic now?”

“I shall leave you fair maiden. Sweet dreams. See you in the morning.”

“But…but, I thought. Where will you sleep?”

“The guest room. Goodnight. Third door down, if you get lonely. Or, scared. Or, can’t find the telescope.”

“And, you know where I am. Goodnight.”

Nicole closed the door, footsteps heard, another door closing. Waverly was determined to see how long it would be before Nicole returned, studying the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. It was gone midnight before she heard the door open, her heartbeat increasing as it closed again.

“Are you awake?” Nicole whispered.

Waverly giggled. “No, fast asleep. Why?”

“Just checking you weren’t being attacked by telescopes. Do you need a pirate to protect you?”

“Always.”

“Good. I’ll go see if there’s one in the house.”

“Stop it,” Waverly replied, trying not to laugh. “You can be so naughty sometimes. Come to bed before we wake the others.”

She pulled back the covers, allowing Nicole to get in, waiting for her to lie down. Their bodies facing each other, a chink of light from the moon entering the room through the gap in the curtains, Waverly able to study Nicole’s face. “If this is all we ever have, then I am content,” she said, stroking Nicole’s cheek. “To spend whatever moments we have together, like this.”

“I’m hoping we have lots of moments like this. Although, we could improve on the situation, if you were willing to consider the possibility.”

“How? I can’t see how we could.”

“Second year students are allowed to lodge near the college, providing no unmarried men are in the same residence.”

“That means I can’t stay here.”

“Sadly, you can’t stay here. But, you could stay with me if I was to find somewhere suitable for us.”

Waverly sat up. “You’d do that? You’d do that for us?”

“Shush, we need to be quiet. Yes, I would do that for us. But, only if it will not be too distracting for you. You know how distracting someone as charming and witty as me can be.”

“You forgot beautiful. I’d love that. Nicole, yes I would love that. Wait. What about James? And, your mother. And, my family. Won’t they suspect?”

“Perhaps. Quite possibly. But, I put the choice to you. Would you prefer to spend your nights cold and lonely in a damp and dark college room, with only a tiny soldier to keep you warm? Or, me.”

“Difficult. Both have their merits. What about your inheritance?”

“If we’re discreet. If we don’t draw attention to our arrangement, this could work for us. I mean, mother likes you already and I’m here in Cambridge.”

“Your mother likes me because she thinks I’m with James, not in bed with her daughter.”

“Oh right. In bed with her daughter, who is feeling feverish all of a sudden.”

“It’s the exertion of the party. I knew it. I said you would over-exert yourself. Can I get you anything?”

“Let me see. Your lips would help I believe.”

“Nicole Haught! What am I to do with you? My God, I’ve just read your mind.”

“Are we on the same page?”

Waverly nodded.

That night Waverly learnt what pleasure meant. Her naïve assumption from the cottage was quickly replaced with a more rounded knowledge of what Nicole could do to her. She never thought it possible to feel the way she did as Nicole kissed a path down her body. She never thought it possible to have her body respond as Nicole gently teased her to open to her touch. She never thought it possible she would scream as loudly again as Nicole’s tongue found her cave, filling it repeatedly until her mind dissolved into oblivion, thinking she would be swept way by the intensity.

As they lay together in the early hours of the morning, the first rays of sunlight breaking into their room, Waverly knew she would never love another the way she loved Nicole. The world was new, changed forever, no way of returning to how it once was. The gentle rise and fall of Nicole’s naked back all she ever wanted from that day forward. Her pirate, her Red was asleep beside her and no one would keep her from her sleeping beauty. Ever again.

Sunday was a leisurely affair, Nicole attempting to cook breakfast having no idea how anything worked in a kitchen, Waverly taking over after several failed attempts at making toast. Not that she was any better, both reliant on a multitude of servants to make their lives comfortable. Waverly eventually managed to not burn two slices of bread, the pair sitting quietly eating dry toast, blissfully content in each other’s company. 

“Do you think we might need a cook?” Waverly asked, taking several sips of tea to wash down her culinary efforts. “Or, lessons. I’m happy to learn.”

“We’d need something. Otherwise, we’ll starve. Food hampers. We get food hampers delivered every day. Caviar and cake. And, those little crawly things for you, the ones with eight legs. I know you secretly love them. On burnt toast.”

“You were so mean to me as a child. I’m surprised I don’t have nightmares because of you.”

Nicole coughed, mumbling the word telescope, Waverly throwing a small piece of burnt toast at her. Robin entered the room, looking very much worse for wear. He attempted to start a conversation, realising it was beyond his ability, waving his hand as he exited almost immediately. Next was Jeremy, who had not partaken in the same number of cocktails as Robin, offering to make breakfast for everyone.

“Do we employ Jeremy?” Waverly asked, as he headed for the kitchen. “He can cook. Although, Robin is the better baker. I miss the cottage.”

“So, do I,” Nicole added. “It was perfect, if a little remote. Would you prefer to be in the centre of town, or slightly removed?”

“The cottage. Definitely, the cottage. Or, something similar. Better. Warmer. And, with a small garden where we could plant herbs and carrots.”

Nicole snorted. “I’m not even going to ask. Fine, why carrots?”

“I like carrots,” Waverly replied.

“Settled. Somewhere with enough land to grow carrots. Lots of carrots. Lots and lots of carrots. God, I love you Waverly Carrot Crunching Earp.”

Waverly returned to college, Nicole’s carriage dropping her in the courtyard just in time to sign the porter’s register of students. The thought of sharing a dwelling with Nicole all she could think of as she lay down that night, hoping to sleep. _It would be perfect,_ she thought. _I would be with Nicole every day, without the need to wait. Definitely need to learn how to cook. One of us. Me. I don’t trust Nicole not to put a worm on my plate for fun._

That night she dreamt of Nicole, her naked body against hers, her scent against her nostrils, her skin against hers, her lips against her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, her stomach, her thigh. She woke in a sweat, knowing Nicole would be the death of her. The death of the child, allowing her to emerge as a woman. The woman she wanted to be.

She was in a daze for most of her lessons the next day, her closest friend at college commenting she appeared distant. Waverly assured her she was simply tired from having spent time with her family. She ate with the others that evening, longing to be with Nicole, wondering what she was doing at the house with Jeremy and Robin.

Jeremy slammed the door behind him as he entered, rushing to the parlour, finding no one there. He called out, his breathing faster than he would like, desperate to find someone to show the front page of the newspaper he had in his hand. 

Robin appeared from the kitchen, about to greet him, until he saw his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“This,” Jeremy replied. “Read it. Where’s Nicole? I have to tell her.”

“She’s in her room, writing thank you notes,” Robin replied, taking the newspaper from Jeremy. He read the headline, his face turning pale. “Who would do this? Bastards.”

Jeremy retrieved the newspaper. “Do I tell her? I’ve got to tell her.”

“You have to. Oh God. And, Waverly. This will destroy them.”


	26. the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What to do now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...how's everyone enjoying the ride so far...!

Nicole read the headline, “The Politics of Passion,” looking up at Jeremy and Robin, who were both staring back at her. The first paragraph of the article summed up the piece:

“Youngest daughter of prominent politician, Mr. William Earp, in bed with daughter of prominent banker Mr. Nicholas Haught. A friend of Mr. Haught's daughter confirmed the relationship, destroying any hope Mr. Earp has of becoming Prime Minister this autumn.”

“I’ve got to tell Waverly,” Nicole said, after reading the entire article. “I need to tell her before someone else does.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jeremy replied. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Two guesses,” Robin said. “Thoby, or Jinny. Never liked either of them. Always thought Thoby was self-serving. And, as for his sister…”

“It couldn’t be,” Nicole interrupted, her voice breaking, the enormity of the situation hitting her. “Thoby wouldn’t do something this despicable. He wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t.”

“Then it must have been Jinny. To get at you through Waverly.”

“No. Why? Why? It doesn’t make sense. I’ve got to get to Waverly. I’ve got to.”

“We’ll come with you,” Robin offered. “She can stay here. Out of sight, until we figure out what to do.”

Nicole’s hands shook as she placed the newspaper on the bed. All three of her life rules had been broken, by someone who sought to ruin the career of Waverly’s father by selling a scandalous story to a national newspaper. They had been caught, not exactly red-handed, but with enough evidence for a newspaper to print with confidence the story on the front page. From that moment on, they no longer would be able to do what they wanted to freely, without drawing attention to themselves and there was no one else to blame. No one.

The walk to Girton College was the worst Nicole ever faced, like that of a convict approaching the hangman’s rope, her feet heavy as they made their way across the courtyard. The porter recognised Nicole as she approached, smiling, wishing her a good morning. “I need to speak with Miss Earp,” she instructed, as she entered his small lodge. “It’s extremely important.”

“I believe lessons have started,” the porter replied. “I suggest you wait for her in the dining hall until morning break? They should be out shortly.”

“No,” Nicole snapped. “I need to speak with her immediately. This cannot wait.”

“Highly irregular. Is it a family matter?”

“Very much so,” Nicole replied, hoping her lie would not be challenged. “I would not ask if it was not of the utmost importance.”

The porter scratched his head. “Alright. For you Miss Haught, I’ll inform her tutor. If you could wait in the dining hall.”

“I need somewhere private. This matter is too delicate to discuss.”

The porter nodded, sensing the gravity of the matter, suggesting they follow him to the Dean’s private drawing room. He left the three waiting while he went to collect Waverly. She entered some minutes later, pleased at first to see Nicole, her expression changing when she saw the look on their faces. “What’s wrong? Nicole, what is it?”

“Waverly, something’s happened,” Nicole began. “I’m so dreadfully sorry. All I ever wanted to do was protect you. I wish I’d never come to Cambridge. I’ve ruined it for everyone.”

“Tell me. What’s going on?”

Nicole handed her the newspaper. “Someone, some traitor, has told our story to the press. Our secret is no longer a secret.”

Waverly read the article, her mouth falling open. “Who would do this? Nicole, who did this?”

“Someone who was at the party,” she replied, tears welling, knowing they had been betrayed by a so-called friend. 

“Did Jinny do this? I knew she couldn’t be trusted. “God, I should have knocked that glass out of her hand. And, that smug smile off her face.”

“I don’t think it was Jinny,” Nicole replied. “This isn’t like her. She’s not that scheming.”

“Don’t you dare defend that woman,” Waverly snapped. “If this was her doing. She couldn’t bear to see me happy with you.”

“Waverly, whoever it was, this is not good. We’ll be hounded, simply for who we are. Rich daughters indulging their indecent desires, bringing shame to their families. You need to come with us, to the house, so we can figure out what to do.”

“I’m not running away. I’m not letting Jinny win. She can’t. Not like this.”

Nicole shook her head. “Whoever did this wasn’t interested in us. It’s your father they are attacking. They want to get at your father, make sure he can’t be Prime Minister. We are simply sacrificial pieces in this game.”

Waverly slumped in an armchair, her mind unable to work out the next move. “My father. Oh no, his whole career because of me. And, mama. And, Wynonna. And, Willa. Nicole, your family too. And, James. And, all because someone…” She burst into tears, Nicole rushing to console her, letting her weep, her own eyes releasing tears of sadness.

“We can’t stay here,” Nicole said, after a few moments. “We must go to the house. I’ll send for the carriage and get you home. I promise I will make this right. I promise.”

Waverly raised her head. “How? How do we make this right?”

“I don’t know. But, we’ll figure something out. I’ll protect you.”

There was a knock on the door, startling everyone. All eyes watched as the Dean of the college entered, a friendly fellow, not one for reading newspapers. “I do apologise. Oh, Miss Haught, what a pleasure to see you. May I come in?”

Nicole stood, nodding, pulling Waverly’s handkerchief from her glove, drying her eyes. “Very good to see you again Dean. I must apologise for this intrusion. Family matter.”

“No, please. I understand. My condolences at this sad time.”

Nicole looked at Waverly, who was looking equally confused, about to correct the Dean as to the precise nature of Nicole’s visit, stopping herself on seeing Nicole shake her head giving her a look to say keep quiet. “Miss Earp will need to leave Girton immediately,” Nicole advised. “I will be escorting her home.”

“I understand,” the Dean replied. “Of course, of course, take all the time you need. My thoughts and prayers are with your family.”

Waverly attempted a smile, failing, lowering her head so as not to give anything away. “I need to pack a few things,” she mumbled. “Nicole will you help me?”

Nicole nodded, following Waverly to her room, leaving the boys to keep the Dean occupied. They returned ten minutes later, the Dean handing an envelope to Waverly. “Please give this to your parents. A letter of condolence. Mr. Chetri has filled me in. So sad and so sudden.”

The pair looked at Jeremy wondering who he had killed off in Waverly’s family, he acting his part perfectly. On the short walk back to the house, he explained he had little option but to lie, knowing it would only be a matter of hours before the real reason for Waverly’s departure was relayed to the Dean.

“This is such a mess,” Waverly said, hurrying to keep up. “How could someone be so cruel?”

Nicole slowed her pace to be able to walk alongside. “Because, it served them. It served their own political appetite. And, I was too stupid to realise. God, Waverly, I’m such a fool.”

“I don’t understand. How can this be your fault?”

“Because, I should have realised those in Jinny’s circle have vastly different views to your father.”

“So, it was Jinny.”

“Thoby. It has to have been Thoby. He would gain the most by your father’s ruin. To spite me.”

“How did he know about us? Unless, Jinny told him.”

“Not necessarily. Thoby may simply have put together the pieces. Me being here. Me not being with Jinny. Me turning him down again.”

“He asked you? Are you telling me he had the nerve to ask you?”

“He foolishly assumed I was now available.”

“And, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing. Your name was never mentioned. I merely said I was with someone else.”

They reached the house, Jeremy drawing the curtains in the parlour, heading to the kitchen to make tea. Robin found the brandy bottle. “This needs something stronger than tea, I’m afraid,” he said, pouring three large measures, handing out the glasses.

Waverly took a sip, coughing, handing it back. “I’ll stick with tea. Nicole, what do we do?”

Nicole gulped the measure, shaking her head. “We can’t stay here. Not together. Not until this blows over. You need to go home. I may need to disappear for a while. Paris might be good.”

“Why can’t I come with you? We could go together.”

“Because,” Nicole began, “we need to give the appearance we are not together. Not here, not anywhere. If I’m out of the country and you’re at home with your family, the press will move on to another story.”

“You’re leaving me,” Waverly said, panic rising in her voice. “You waving from a distance. I’ll be trapped in a room. I can’t do this without you. Nicole, I can’t. It would kill me.”

“My love, we have to. I’m not letting Thoby destroy your father because of us. He doesn’t win. Not this game. If that means us being apart, then that’s what must be done.”

“No. I won’t let you go. I’ll never see you again. We’ll never have that cottage and grow carrots and make bread.”

“We will. We’ll make lots of bread together. I promise. Cross my heart.”

Waverly was sobbing once more, her heart telling her she was losing Nicole forever. Nicole comforted her as best she could, she too wondering how they could turn the situation to their advantage. Robin was on his second brandy when they heard the doorbell ring, Jeremy rushing from the kitchen to see who was at the door. Nicole’s eldest brother had seen the article, sending his carriage to collect Nicole, bring her to his estate, guessing reporters would be rushing to find his sister in Cambridge. 

He was waiting for them as the carriage pulled up outside his house, shaking his head. “Only you could get yourself into this kind of mess. Hello Waverly, you’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Nicole hugged her brother, thanking him for his prompt actions, agreeing that to remain in Cambridge would have been unwise given the situation. Waverly blushed, avoiding eye contact with Nicole’s brother, following behind as they entered the house. “I need to get Waverly to her parents,” Nicole advised, removing her coat, handing it to a servant. “They must be frantic given William’s position in government.”

“Is the story true?” her brother asked. “If we can prove the story false, it will simply be a matter of requesting it be retracted with an apology.”

“The damage is already done," Nicole replied. "This is a deliberate attempt to get to Waverly’s father. A clever way to take him down.”

“I agree. This smacks of dirty politics. But, you didn’t answer my question.”

“What do you think?” Nicole asked, looking directly at her brother. “Do you think I would do such a thing with Waverly?”

“I am not accusing you. I’m merely trying to understand how such an article could be written. And, why Waverly is involved.”

“What does that mean? Tell me. Don’t hide what you have to say.”

Nicole's brother paused, not wanting to bring up the past, feeling it necessary given the circumstances. “Waverly nearly drowned. Remember. Your actions, your inattention created a dangerous situation. And, here we are again. Waverly being dragged into something because of you.”

Nicole stopped, her mouth falling open, a dawning realisation this was exactly the same. Her thoughtless actions were hurting Waverly and everyone Waverly loved. “This is not the same," Nicole replied. "Not the same. I never meant to...never.”

Nicole’s brother closed the door to his sitting room, motioning for them to sit. “My dearest sister, I know you don’t mean to hurt Waverly. The fact of the matter remains your actions are doing precisely that. You left yourself open to attack. You gave someone the opportunity to spread lies about you. Mother told me to keep an eye on you.”

“You spied on me.”

“Not exactly. I merely asked my coachman to keep me informed of your movements. You think I don’t know about the telescope and father’s books. Who do you think made the hideaway in the nursery? 

“If you knew, why didn’t you tell on me?”

“Because, you are my sweet sister, whom I love dearly and would rather take the blame for you. Father still thinks I have those books. I know their contents were not for young eyes, given what I saw. Very naughty of you I must say. But, also so delightfully you.”

“You protected me?”

“I’ve always protected you. Kept you out of trouble, as best I could. I still regret not being in Cornwall. The look on mother’s face when she told me will haunt me forever. I’ve never seen her so upset. And, father too. You are everyone’s favourite. To have lost you would have destroyed all of us.”

Nicole felt the tears falling, Waverly not knowing whether to hug her, or cry herself. To hear Nicole’s brother reveal what he had done in the past, how much love her family had for her, made her think of her own family. A maid entered with tea, curtseying without looking at anyone, leaving immediately. “Father will not be happy with you. Sadly, I can’t protect you this time. I can, however, offer you sanctuary here if you both wish. Although, I think you are right. Waverly needs to be with her family right now.”

“Thank you,” Nicole whispered, her hands shaking as she accepted a cup of tea from her brother. She turned to Waverly, the saddest look in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I believed I was invincible. I believed I knew how to play the game better than anyone else. I didn’t. I don’t. I’ve let you down.”

“You haven’t. Please, please stop blaming yourself. This isn’t your fault. Nicole, listen to me, this isn’t your fault.”

“It is. My friends betrayed us. My presence in Cambridge caused this. My arrogance brought this to the door.”

“Our door,” Waverly corrected. “I wanted this as much as you. I wanted you with me. I made a choice. I could have attended a dinner party with James. I didn’t. I chose you. I choose you.”

“Waverly, are you saying the article is true?” Nicole’s brother asked.

Waverly nodded. “I don’t regret it. I love her.”

“I see. I must say I’m a little shocked. Mother mentioned she was unhappy Nicole was associating with that lot in Bloomsbury given their dreadful reputations. I simply assumed she chose to be in Cambridge to be away from them. It hadn’t occurred to me there was another reason.”

“Waverly is the reason,” Nicole replied.


	27. the Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the world is pulling you apart...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, we're still in the bumpy bit of the story. Keep your seatbelts on...for now...
> 
> .

Nicole’s brother warmed himself by the fire, standing the way their father did when weighing up a serious matter, deciding on a course of action. Hands behind his back, he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. After a few moments' contemplation he was ready to speak. “Regrettable. I hoped the story could be refuted. I would have taken great pleasure in writing to the editor to put him straight.”

“Did you mean to say that?” Nicole asked, wondering if her brother was teasing. 

“As you say, the damage has been done. If we cannot undo it, we must seek to reduce its sting.” He turned his body slightly to face Waverly. “My sister is right, you must not remain together. I will ask my good friend Sir Frederick Lawes to drive you to London. It will be more discreet than the train. I’ll let your parents know you are on your way.”

“I’m going too,” Nicole said. “I need to be there when Waverly speaks to her father.”

Her brother shook his head. “Freddy’s car is a two-seater. And, you need to stay as far away as possible from Waverly. And, away from the press. We do everything by the book from this moment forward. I will send a telegram to Rothamsted Manor. Should speed things up.”

Nicole waited for her brother to leave the room. “At least you get to ride in a motorcar.”

“I’m scared,” Waverly admitted. “Really scared. I don’t think we’ll be allowed to be together. Not after this. Papa will lose his position, all because of me.”

“Us. We fight for us. No matter what happens you must stay focused on that cottage we’ll live in, with all those carrots. I’ll learn how to make bread. Keep that in your heart. And, me. Keep me there too.”

“We’ll never have that cottage. And, I so wanted it. So, so much.”

Nicole came and sat next to Waverly, putting her arm round her shoulder. “Remember when we were in the cave and you wanted to go home. And, I told you, I promised you I would get you home.”

Waverly nodded, Nicole offering her the embroidered handkerchief to wipe her eyes. “I remember.”

“Well, I promise I will get us home. I promise we will have that pretty cottage. Do you trust me?”

“I do. But…”

“A promise is a promise.” Nicole pressed her lips against Waverly’s, a final intimate moment shared between them, not knowing how long it would be before they could be together again. 

Nicole pulled away as her brother reappeared, distancing herself from Waverly as he walked to the fireplace. “I’ve asked cook to provide an early lunch. I expect Freddy will be here this afternoon. He does like a good run in that contraption of his.”

Freddy’s car roared up the driveway shortly before two, sounding his horn as he waited outside, not wanting to stop the engine. A final hug, more tears, Nicole watched as Waverly drove off, suitcase strapped on the back, the love of her life disappearing down the long driveway in a cloud of dust.

She returned to the sitting room, her brother pouring them both a whiskey, offering her a cigarette. “You know you will have to give her up. Her father’s position is too important. I just hope it can be salvaged.”

Nicole nodded. “I’m such a fool. If I hadn’t been so impatient, I could have waited. But, no. I had to go rushing in where angels fear to tread.”

“The timing of this is indeed unfortunate. Father will be livid his chosen politician could be out of the race. He was banking on him passing an Act to benefit the family business.”

“Did you mean to say that?” Nicole asked, her brother shaking his head.

“That has always been your problem,” he rebuked. “Treating everything so casually. Here you are, hiding in my house because you took the daughter of a politician to bed. And, naively trusted those who thought nothing of betraying you. Waverly most likely won’t be allowed to return to Girton, her father could be forced to resign in disgrace, James may want nothing more to do with her. And, all because you couldn’t see beyond your own considerations.”

“She doesn’t want James,” Nicole mumbled, not looking at her brother, desperate to hold back the tears, knowing full well how much damage had been done by that one newspaper article.

“Her future is damaged. As is her father’s. And, so is our family’s future. Father has been working on that Act with William for years. It would have opened a wealth of opportunity for our business. I honestly thought you were smarter than this. I really did.”

Nicole listened to her brother in silence, knowing everything he was saying was true. She had let everyone down. 

Waverly thanked Sir Frederick for the lift, asking if he would like to come in for refreshments. He declined, unbuckling her suitcase from the rear of the car, shaking her hand. A toot on his horn, goggles repositioned over eyes, he was off again. Waverly hesitated at the door, not wanting to face her family quite yet, knowing she would have to eventually. _I could get on a train,_ she thought. _Find a way to get to Paris. Be with you, my love. I could send you a letter once I’m there, telling you where I am. I wish you here with me. I wish none of this was happening._

She rang the bell, waiting an eternity for the door to open. The familiar face of their housekeeper greeted her, smiling, taking her case, saying her mother was in the dining room. She led the way, Waverly reluctant to enter, holding back. She could hear Wynonna’s voice, letting out a small sigh knowing she would not have to face her mother alone. As she entered she could see her mother’s eyes were red, Wynonna patting her hand, both looking at Waverly, who remained at the far end of the table, scared to approach her family for fear of being rejected. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, before bursting into tears.

Wynonna rushed to comfort her, hugging her sister as she sobbed on her shoulder. “It’s alright, my petal. It’s alright. You did nothing wrong. No one is angry with you. Come, you’re home now.”

“I’ve ruined everything,” she replied, her heart breaking. “Papa will lose his job because of me.”

Waverly’s mother was now rubbing her back. “My child, why didn’t you tell me you had feelings for Nicole?”

“Because…because,” she sobbed, unable to explain. “I love her.”

“I understand,” her mother replied. “My child, I understand. It’s just a shame this had to end up in the newspaper.”

“I never meant for this…I’m sorry.”

“Hush, my child. Where’s Nicole?”

“With her brother. I want to be with her.”

“I know you do. And, does she want to be with you?”

Waverly nodded, her body heaving as she tried to calm her breathing. “We were…we were going to live in a cottage near Cambridge. In my second year. Just the two of us.” 

“Oh, my poor child. To have your heart broken like this. I fear you will not be returning to Girton. Not for some time. And, living with Nicole is out of the question.”

Waverly’s sobbing became louder, Wynonna hugging her tighter, stroking her hair. “It’s for the best,” Wynonna said. “Mama is right. We need to keep you safe. It will all work out for the best.”

“Without her, I’m nothing. Wyn, without her…”

“I know, my petal. I know. We all love Nicole.”

“Not like this. Not like this.”

She felt in her pocket for her handkerchief, pulling out the one she gave to Nicole, the gut-wrenching realisation what they had was over, for now, possibly forever. Wynonna gently guided her sister to the table, making her sit down, offering to pour her a sherry. Waverly shook her head, holding the handkerchief in her hand, rubbing the four letters with her thumb.

They heard the front door close, heavy footsteps in the hall, their father’s voice calling out. Their mother left the room, another door opening and closing, Waverly left with Wynonna. “Papa may be a little angry, but I’m here for you. I suggest you do not mention Nicole to him. Or, your feelings for her. Edward suspected, ever since he found out about Charles’ extra-curricular activities.”

“He likes men. I know.”

“And, Nicole likes women. Red the pirate. I should have guessed.”

Their father entered, staring at Waverly, a large glass of brandy in his hand. He was pale, clearly shaken by events, taking a large swig of his drink before starting. “Young lady, I have spent the entire morning managing a situation of your doing. Do you hear me?”

Waverly nodded, shaking, no longer able to cry, Wynonna holding her hand under the table.

“I have been summoned to see the Queen later today, to explain all of this nonsense. And, I am at a loss as to know how.”

“I’m sorry,” Waverly whispered, not daring to meet her father’s eyes.

“Nicholas is furious with his daughter. As, I should be with you. I blame neither of you, naïve as both of you are. I will make the best of this situation, but I forbid you to see Nicole. She clearly is not the best influence. And, evidently the pair of you are not sensible enough to keep your private affairs out of the newspaper.”

“William, enough,” their mother said, softly. “Waverly understands what has been done. Let us go to the other room. Now is not the time.”

“He’ll calm down,” Wynonna soothed, once their parents left the room. “He’ll deal with this. But, he’s right you can’t be with Nicole. Especially not Nicole, given papa’s connection to the Haughts.”

“Why? You’re with Edward.”

“That’s different. Edward and I are not front page news.”

Sir Frederick returned to the estate, breezing into the hallway, handing his goggles, gloves and cap to a servant, bouncing into the sitting room. “I must say she’s frightfully good looking,” he announced, parking himself in an armchair, accepting a large glass of whiskey from Nicole’s brother. “Was extremely tempted to meet her father. Not the done thing, what. Me introducing myself, having driven his daughter to London. William Earp. My vote’s with him.”

“She’s not available,” Nicole said, nursing her glass. “And, you may not be able to vote for him.”

“Nonsense. Sound fellow like Earp. Wouldn’t vote for anyone else.”

“What my sister means is, he may no longer be in the running, given what’s happened. Unfortunately, my sister has been played by those who seek to remove William from the game, or damage his chances of winning.”

“What rotters. Bad show if he drops out. I’m assuming something in the closet has fallen out.”

Nicole’s brother looked at his sister. “Unfortunately yes.”

They arranged for Freddy to drive Nicole to Wattlestone the next morning, Nicole’s brother revealing on the way out the circumstances behind his requests. Rather than being shocked, Freddy seemed even more willing to be involved, the thrill of being part of a national scandal too much to resist. He arrived early the following day, sounding his horn, waiting for Nicole to get in, setting off for Buckinghamshire. “I say,” he said, a few minutes into the journey. “I’m all for this relationship of yours.”

“Are you.” Nicole replied, having not slept much, thinking about Waverly all night.

“Frightfully bad show someone going to the press. I dare say they were paid handsomely.”

“I dare say.”

“She’s quite a catch.”

“Who?”

“Miss Earp. Your lover. If I may call her that. I hope you don’t mind me talking about her.”

Nicole did, biting her tongue, recognising Freddy’s generosity. “No. And, yes. She’s definitely a catch.”

“I don’t suppose she has any sisters?” Freddy asked, ever the opportunist.

“Two. Both married.”

“Shame. I can imagine they’re as pretty as Miss Earp.”

Nicole didn’t respond. 

Her mother was waiting at the entrance, inviting Freddy in, much to Nicole’s annoyance. She made her excuses, heading to the nursery to be alone, to collect her thoughts. As she entered the room, the dam burst, unable to stop the flood of emotions inside. All the times she and Waverly had been in that room, all the happy times, silly times, fun times, drunk times. Playing with dolls, having tea parties, dressing up, Nicole showing Waverly how to do battle with the soldiers. Showing her the naughty book, wanting to share her life with no other. All gone. Blown up. Destroyed. 

Her mother entered, sitting beside her, letting her daughter release her sadness. “I wish you had told me about Waverly. I could have protected you.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Nicole sobbed. “Don’t lie.”

“Nicole! I do not lie. Apologise.”

“Never. I want Waverly.”

“I know you do my dearest child. If I had known, if you had told me, I would have seen to it you remained safe. In the shadows. Beyond wagging tongues.”

“Like you did with Jinny.”

“Jinny was different. Dora too. They were not suitable. And, as for those others. Those Bloomsbury lot.”

“Everyone hates Jinny. This isn’t her fault. It’s mine. All mine.”

“My darling. Someone in that group has been itching to get your name in the newspaper. I’ve been protecting you from their attempts.”

“No. You can’t have. Why?”

“Because there are those who would seek to exploit their relationship with you. Who don’t love you for who you are.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have protected Waverly if I’d known.”

“I realise that now. This is as much my fault. I tried to warn you, tried to keep you away from those who were out to hurt you. Charles assured me he would look after you and even he let me down.”

“I need to be with Waverly.”

“Oh, my darling child. It’s too late. You need to let her go. I wish there was another way. I wish I could make this different. But, it’s too late.”

“Never. I’ll fight with my last breath to get her back. Do you hear? My very last breath.”

“We are not so different,” her mother replied. “You and I. We give our hearts to those who can be kept from us. I know the pain you are going through. I too have had to let another fly away.”

“I’m not letting her go. Jinny, Dora, they are not Waverly. If you knew, if you really knew then you’d understand.

“I’ll make arrangements for you to spend some time in Paris. I’ll accompany you. Best we keep out of your father’s way for a time.”

“So, I’m being sent away again. As always. Geneva, Paris, Charles. That’s how I’m dealt with. An embarrassment. An annoyance. Fine, I’ll go. But, I’m not losing Waverly. I made a promise to her. One I intend to keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an era without instant communication, or fast transport, I wanted things to move a little faster in the story, to build tension. Wanted to introduce telephones, but in 1904 they were still a novelty. So, telegrams it is. The postal system was fairly quick, as I mentioned in a previous chapter, but telegrams were quicker. Things took time to get done. Give me an iphone any day.
> 
> In terms of transport, there were 23,000 cars on British roads by the end of 1904 reportedly (over 100,000 by 1910). Sir Freddy is based on Sir Charles Bennett Lawes, a car enthusiast who came up in a search. The following article has an image of him. His family estate (Rothampsted Manor, in Hertfordshire) fitted the story, although Sir Charles was considerable older than my guy. Worth noting is the mention of women drivers. Free spirits, who took to the road. Guess I'll have to buy Waverly and Nicole a motorcar...!
> 
> https://roadswerenotbuiltforcars.com/driving-for-health-1904/


	28. the Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who would go against the Queen of England...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so it's still a little bumpy, and a little sad. And, will they, won't they...!
> 
> But, hey...what's a story without a little angst...

Waverly opened her jewellery box, taking out the butterfly necklace, putting it on, looking at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing table. _I’ll wear this forever,_ she thought, _I’ll keep this on to keep me connected to you._ She felt in her pocket, the tin soldier and the coin Nicole gave her safe, her fingers running over them for reassurance. 

Wynonna entered, sitting on the bed, watching her sister. “That’s very pretty. A gift from James, I’m guessing.”

Waverly made no response, other than a shake of the head, putting her hand on the charm which sat perfectly on her neck. She turned to face her sister, wanting to be anywhere but in that room, wanting to be with Nicole.

Wynonna forced a smile, hoping what she had to say would be accepted, understood at least. “Father’s visit to the Palace went better than expected. The Queen is annoyed such a situation has to come to light, especially now, but she doesn’t feel it’s a large enough scandal to merit his immediate resignation.”

“So, I can be with Nicole?” Waverly asked. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“It is good news, my petal,” Wynonna began, pausing to study her sister’s face. “Except, the Queen made one condition to father if he is to be considered for the position of Prime Minister.”

“What condition? Wyn, what’s the condition?” 

“You must be married within a month.”

Waverly heard the words her sister uttered, the room suddenly becoming smaller, walls closing in. Her hands shook, blood pounding in her ears, her heart banging on her ribcage. “No, that’s not fair. Why? Wyn, why?”

“Because,” Wynonna replied, turning away to avoid seeing the sadness in Waverly’s eyes. “The Queen does not recognise your relationship with Nicole. She doesn’t want it to be an example, given who you are. Given who Nicole is. It sends the wrong message.”

“She can’t. She can’t order me to marry. That’s my choice.”

“I know. I understand, my petal. You’re right, she can’t order you to marry anyone. Nor can she personally fire father. But, her influence is such father would have little choice but to resign if it were known he displeased the Queen. You are lucky she likes father, otherwise the outcome could have been far worse.”

“Lucky! Being ordered to marry is not lucky. I won’t. Not for the Queen. Not for father. I love Nicole, do you hear? I love her. It would be a lie if I married someone else.”

“James is still willing to consider you as his wife,” Wynonna replied. “Under the circumstances that’s extremely generous of him. He could easily have refused, but he respects father, knows this is in everyone’s best interest and is prepared to do the decent thing.”

“No!” Waverly shouted. “I’m not marrying James. I don’t love him. He’s not who I want to be with. Wyn, please, this is cruel. It will kill me.”

“I’m so sorry. I wish there was another way. I wish I could give you what you want to make you happy.”

“Everyone is telling me what to do. Everyone. And, I have no say in the matter. None.”

“You like James,” Wynonna offered, knowing what Waverly was saying was true, not knowing any other way out of the predicament. “Marriage isn’t so bad. Waverly it resolves the matter.”

“But, it’s a lie,” Waverly yelled, her eyes filling, trapped in a situation from which she was unable to escape. “It would be a lie. For everyone’s convenience, but my own.”

Wynonna wanted to comfort her sister, unable to do so, her heart telling her she was betraying Waverly instead. “At least consider it. For father’s sake. And, mama’s.”

She could hear Waverly sobbing as she stood the other side of the door, her own tears falling, wanting to make the situation right, wanting to make the problem go away. She returned to the parlour, her mother and father waiting anxiously to hear how the news had been taken. Wynonna shook her head. “This is cruel. This is too cruel. She’s being forced to marry someone she doesn’t love.”

“For appearances,” their father replied. “I’m confident in a few years, once she has children of her own, she’ll forget about this nonsense with Nicole. A mere infatuation that will pass.”

“Perhaps,” Wynonna replied. “She needs time to come round to the idea. This has to be her choice. And, hers alone.”

“I will leave it in your capable hands to make your sister see reason. I will ask James to visit once we have her agreement.”

Their father left the room to catch up on correspondence, Wynonna waiting for the door to close before speaking. “We can’t do this to her. Mama she’s heartbroken. Why not let this matter disappear on its own. In a few weeks it will be old news. If Waverly wants to be with Nicole who are we to stop her.”

Their mother shook her head. “The Queen has become personally involved. To go against her wishes would mean the end of your father’s political career. He may find work elsewhere, if someone would even employ him. But, it would mean our family would no longer have the standing it once had.”

“Are you and father going to do this to Waverly? Sell her out. I thought you loved her.”

“Of course we love her,” their mother snapped, fear and frustration taking over. Seeing the shock on Wynonna’s face, she paused, taking a moment to compose herself. “My darling, I love her dearly. So does your father. This is not a punishment. This is a solution offering her the best way to be with Nicole in the future. It will protect her and Nicole. Trust me.”

“Waverly doesn’t see it that way. She thinks you’re doing this to keep her from the one she loves. She’s not going to agree to marriage unless we can convince her otherwise.”

“I will speak to her. It’s time.”

Nicole’s mother was in the breakfast room, a maid serving her kippers as Nicole entered. “There you are my sweet child, how are you feeling?”

“Miserable,” Nicole replied, waiting for the maid to leave. “I’m going to write to Waverly, tell her I’ll be in Paris for a few weeks. Perhaps, we could meet once this has blown over.”

Her mother put down her knife and fork. “I would advise against such a move. You will get her hopes up, only to have them dashed. And, I intend to be in Paris longer than a few weeks.”

“In that case, you’ll have to go without me. I’m staying here.”

“Nicole, for once in your life do the right thing. Waverly’s reputation is at stake. As is her father’s. As is yours, I might add. There will be plenty of time in the future to see her. She’s young, she will get over this. In time you will be able to establish a more lasting friendship with her.”

“Oh, I’m living with her. Cut me off, do what you like, I’m getting that cottage I promised her and we’re going to be together.”

“I will not argue with you,” her mother replied. “Especially when you say such idiotic things. You know that can never happen. Please tell me you didn’t fill Waverly’s head with fanciful ideas.”

“They’re not fanciful. Just because they don’t fit with what society expects, doesn’t mean we can’t live together. It’s not hurting anyone. Jeremy and Robin do it, Charles has someone, Dora’s been with someone for ages. Plenty of others.”

“Who are not you. Or, Waverly. Others who do not cause a national scandal and end up on the front of a newspaper.”

“Your point being?”

“My point being, your relationship with Waverly carries with it extra responsibilities. I really wish you had been sensible and told me sooner. I will do whatever I can to keep your friendship alive. But, there will have to be compromises on both sides.”

“I promised Waverly we would grow carrots together.”

“Carrots,” her mother repeated, rolling her eyes. “You would do all this for carrots. Honestly, Nicole, I wonder if you’re my child sometimes. I’ll make the arrangements for Paris. I think we will have a splendid time there.”

Nicole ventured out after breakfast, lighting a cigarette as soon as she entered the woods, taking her time to reach the pond. The ice had thawed, signs of new life emerging, the movement of birds in the branches above. She had everything in her life. Wealth, status, expensive clothes, enough food on the table, countless bottles of champagne, an enormous house to rattle around in with grounds stretching for miles, another house in London, rich relatives abroad. It all meant nothing. 

None held value in her life without the one person who meant more to her than life. The one person she gladly would have sacrificed her life for that fateful day in Cornwall if it meant saving Waverly. She would do anything for her, even if it meant her own life would be ruined. She would give it all up, her inheritance, her family to be with Waverly. That’s all that mattered. She hated whoever had done this to them, outed them in the most brutal way imaginable. That someone had been trying to do this before made her sick to her stomach. 

People she trusted, people who called themselves friends to her face stabbing her in the back. She could understand why her mother kept their betrayal from her, yet she wished she had been told. She wished her name could have been the only one to appear in the newspaper. That way they might have been better prepared, might have been more careful, less trusting of those who were out to selfishly benefit from her name.

She lit another cigarette, determined to find out who it was, to make them suffer for all the suffering they were causing her and her beloved Waverly. 

Waverly was in no mood to listen to her mother, telling her if she had come to convince her to marry James she would run away. Her mother had never seen such determination in her daughter, taken aback by her commitment to another, proud her daughter was prepared to fight for love. 

Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Waverly’s back. “My darling, let me tell you something. Something you need to know. I understand what you’re going through. More than you can imagine.”

“You can’t,” Waverly replied, refusing to look at her mother. “You can’t possibly know.”

“Oh, but I do. I too fell in love with someone. A dear, dear friend. Someone like no other. Someone who made me feel whole. I too had wild plans of running away, living together, being happy.”

Waverly turned her head, not sure she was hearing correctly. “You and a woman. No, you’re just saying that. It can’t be true. It can’t.”

Her mother nodded. “It’s true. We got as far as Dover before her father caught up with us. Stopped us from seeing each other. They moved shortly afterwards and we lost contact for years.”

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. Does…does father know?”

“I told him when we first started courting. I thought he would be angry, but he understood, helped me trace her. I wrote to her a few times. At first I received no reply. Then a letter arrived, telling me she was married. Had children of her own. That she missed me, but was happy with her new life.”

“Have you seen her since?”

“Once. We met in Green Park. You were there. Too young to remember I expect. We promised to write to each other, but the letters stopped coming.”

“Oh mama,” Waverly said, wiping her eyes, putting her arm round her mother. “I’m so sorry. She broke your heart.”

“At the time yes. But, I made other friends. Close friends who have comforted me over the years. Loved me. And, I have three wonderful daughters.”

Waverly contemplated her mother’s story. “If father knew, if he helped you, why is he forcing me to marry James?”

“Oh, Waverly, he’s not. He wants nothing more than to see you happy. Sadly, his choices are limited given his position and responsibilities. The Queen is not one to be trifled with. Certainly, not someone to be disobeyed. And, there are others who need your father to be the next Prime Minister.”

“This is different. I don’t love James. You love father.”

“Not at first. I found him a bore, if you want my honesty. I gradually grew to like him, admire his ambition, his determination. Eventually, to love him for giving me three precious gifts.”

“I want to be with Nicole. I thought I liked James, but that’s no longer the way I feel. It’s not fair to James. Or, Nicole. Or, me. Nobody wins.”

“We can’t force you to marry. We can’t force you to love someone you don’t. We simply want you to consider the consequences if you decide to pursue a relationship with Nicole.”

“Why does it have to be like this? Why? Why can’t I love who I want? Be with who I want. A life without Nicole is no life. It’s a death.”

The journey to Paris was dismal, bad weather making the ferry crossing worse, Nicole feeling sick for most of the journey. She could feel another fever approaching, managing to make it to her aunt and uncle’s chateau before collapsing. Her mother sat with her for two days nursing her over the worst, recognising the strain was taking its toll on her daughter’s health. She sent a letter to Waverly’s mother two weeks after their arrival explaining they would remain in Paris for the foreseeable future. She apologised on behalf of Nicole for having caused their family so much pain. She hoped Waverly was well, that she had instructed Nicole not to communicate, at least for the next few months, to let the matter rest.

Waverly’s mother replied, saying she blamed neither daughter, that the fault lay with whoever betrayed them. She was saddened their daughters had not sought to confide in their mothers, for fear of their relationship not being allowed to continue. She hoped in time their girls could find a way to maintain their friendship without it being public knowledge, or fodder for gossip-mongers. She revealed the Queen had made one stipulation, informing Waverly would marry James the following month at a small chapel in London. She hoped Nicole would understand this was the only way and put aside any thoughts of them being together.

Nicole’s mother cried when she read the letter, hiding it in a drawer in her bedroom, unable to tell her daughter the news. She was quiet at dinner that evening, Nicole noticing how drawn she looked. Nicole could see something was bothering her, not wanting to ask directly, determined to find out if it related to Waverly.


	29. the Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Nicole take the news of Waverly's forthcoming marriage...

Isobel decided to pay a visit to her future sister-in-law. Waverly’s forthcoming marriage to her brother had been announced in The Times newspaper, the previous day, the second time Waverly’s name had appeared in that paper. 

Isobel had a copy with her when she arrived, the housekeeper showing her into the parlour. Waverly took the newspaper from her, reading the small entry, handing it back. “For someone getting married,” Isobel said, “you do not appear all that excited.”

Waverly forced a smile, pouring them tea. “I am. Truly,” she replied, her voice lacking enthusiasm. “I am grateful to your brother.”

“I must say, after I heard, I assumed James would have nothing more to do with you.”

Waverly handed Isobel a cup, her hand shaking slightly. “I’m grateful he does.”

“I mean, you and Nicole Haught. I’ll agree she’s beautiful and rather exotic. But, to think my future sister-in-law would be caught in bed with her.”

Waverly had so many words she wanted to say, knowing Isobel had a wicked tongue, knowing she was looking to score an advantage from the situation. “It was an error of judgment on my part,” she replied. “How are your wedding plans?”

“Were you really caught in bed with her? The article made no mention of the details. I assume they were too scandalous to print.”

“I would rather not go into the details.”

“Oh come now, I will be your sister-in-law in a few weeks. You have my utmost confidence. I’m dying to know what it was like. Was she naked?”

Waverly thought back to the night of the party, the memory of Nicole’s sensuous touch still able to make her body respond. The moment Nicole had removed her nightgown, moonlight illuminating her naked body, Waverly’s eyes feasting on her beautiful form, every curve and contour, every mountain and valley. She remembered how Nicole’s hands gently coaxed her own nightgown above her head, allowing them to be free, unencumbered in a moment of vulnerability. She remembered how Nicole’s fingers danced across her skin, each touch more exquisite than the last, building and building until she screamed out in ecstasy, unable to hold back, giving herself completely to her lover.

How could she explain that to anyone, let alone Isobel? How could she tell her Nicole made her feel things that night she never imagined could be felt? How could she tell her she was dying inside at the thought of never being with Nicole in that way ever again? Instead, she forced a smile, knowing what she experienced with her lover would remain between them forever. Her hand instinctively went to the soldier in her pocket, rubbing it, her only connection to the one person she most wanted to be with.

“I understand your mother has selected your dress,” Isobel said, tearing Waverly from her thoughts. “Not too revealing I hope.”

“I believe it is in keeping with the day,” Waverly replied. “Mother has chosen her outfit too.”

“I too have a completely new outfit for the day. James insisted I look my very best.”

“You will, Isobel. You always look so refined.”

“I understand the Haughts are not invited. As to be expected.”

“As to be expected,” Waverly parroted, her heart breaking as she sipped her tea.

Nicole waited for her mother to depart with her aunt on a shopping trip to the city. They invited her to join them, Nicole feigning tiredness and the start of a headache, her mother suggesting she stay with her. Nicole insisted she go, saying she would rest and hopefully join them on another trip in a few days. 

As soon as she heard the carriage depart she headed to her mother’s bedroom, locking the door behind her in case a servant entered. She scanned the room, in search of whatever had caused her mother to look the way she did the previous evening. Guessing it must be some form of correspondence, she began opening drawers, careful not to move anything out of place lest she be caught. Both drawers of the bedside table were empty, as were the drawers of the writing desk by the window. 

That only left the drawers of the dressing table. The first contained her mother’s creams and powders, the second her jewellery box, the third drawer was empty. Her eyes scanned the room, wondering where else her mother might have put any letters for safe keeping, suddenly remembering the jewellery box had a lower compartment, hidden from view by a tray. She had found it one day while playing in her mother’s room, trying on her jewellery, finding a love letter from someone who went only by the initial M.

Lifting the tray, she saw a small cream envelope with distinctive black handwriting. Extracting the letter inside she knew immediately it was from Waverly’s mother. 

My darling,

I am heartbroken this has happened to our beautiful daughters. None of it was their fault. They were betrayed. Of all people, we should know their anguish. To not want anything more than each other. Fate has been kind to us, keeping us close, yet so cruel to those we cherish in this world. Oh, that they might have enjoyed what we have been fortunate enough to enjoy all these years. If only they had known we could be trusted with their love. That saddens me the most. That they did not seek to confide in us for fear we might not understand. Oh, but we do. Most assuredly.

My love, I have news. Happy news and sad news. Waverly is to be married in St. Ethelreda’s Church, off Holborn on the 15th of April. James has agreed to do the decent thing, with a little persuasion, to his benefit as he will work with William in Parliament on completion of his studies. 

Waverly is beside herself with grief, not wanting this marriage, having little choice. The Palace are involved through William’s position. His chances of election rest on the Queen’s one condition, that Waverly should be married quickly to save further scandal. 

I do not know how you will break the news to Nicole. My heart goes to her, knowing the loss of the one she loves will be hard to take. I am certain, in time, their bond will develop into the kind we have. This is for the best, the only way. Their dream of a life together not to be.

My darling, be well. Hug Nicole close for me.

Your loving M.

Nicole brushed the tears away with her sleeve, careful not get any on the letter. Sadness and anger and despair swirled inside, not knowing what to do, assuming all was lost. She placed the letter back in the envelope, replacing the tray, returning the jewellery box to the drawer. She had lost the one treasure she most wanted, no longer sure what she would do with her life. She stood looking out the window at the view of Paris, a clear day, the sun high, the top of the Eiffel tower visible. And, in that moment she knew what to do. She knew it was down to her to save Waverly from a life she was not choosing freely, was not entering into willingly. 

It was as if Waverly was calling to her from across the sea for her Red, her pirate to come to her rescue. And, she would. If it was the last thing she did. Even if it went against the wishes of everyone, even the Palace. “To hell with everyone,” she shouted to an empty room. “To hell with those who would take from me what is precious.”

Now she faced the task of how to get Waverly away from those who were telling her what to do. Not an easy task, but not impossible. 

Returning to her own bedroom, she began to think through all possible options. She knew she could not involve her mother, nor those who she no longer could trust. That ruled out Jinny and Thoby and everyone in Bloomsbury. She also knew she could not rely on her brothers, or any of Waverly’s family for fear any rescue would be stopped. She also could not let Waverly know what was afoot, again for fear someone might intercept any communication.

That left only Jeremy and Robin, two people she hoped would have hers and Waverly’s interests at heart. She would need to contact them, let them know what she planned to do, how she hoped to achieve it and what help they could provide. She would have to be careful not to raise too much suspicion from her mother, confident she could carry out her plans under her nose given how many times she had done so in the past. 

It took her a few days to think through how best to carry out her plan, setting it out in detail in a letter to Jeremy, explaining this needed to be kept secret. Assuming any reply might be intercepted, she told them to place a personal message in Le Figaro, the daily newspaper published in Paris, with the following wording:

The carrot cake is baked. Ready to eat. 

She knew both Robin and Jeremy spoke fluent French, posting her letter early the next morning while out on a ride, praying they would get it in time, praying they would help, praying she would see Waverly again.

Waverly had not left the house since her return to London, beginning to wonder if she would ever be allowed outside on her own ever again. She spent hours in her bedroom, composing letters to Nicole, knowing she would not be allowed to send them, guessing any correspondence from Nicole would be intercepted. It pained her that Nicole would not know about the marriage, or that she would not be there. Wynonna had told her Nicole was now in Paris with her mother, staying in the chateau where they had spent a month enjoying the city.

She wondered what Nicole was doing, wondering if she was missed, wondering when they might see each other again. Wynonna entered, looking pleased with herself, two samples of cloth in her hand. “I’ve found the perfect dress,” she began. “It’s the latest design, very French. I can't decide on the scarlet, or this blue. What do you suggest?”

Waverly took the samples, pretending to make a decision, handing back the dark blue one. “This would suit your complexion,” she replied, half-heartedly.

“Do you think? I rather like the red. Very fashionable. Mother’s dress is a similar red. Are you sure the blue?”

“The red is pretty too.”

Wynonna placed the samples on the bed. “Oh my petal, I know this is hard. If there were any other way.”

“I know. I made my choice. Father is happy, and mama. It’s for the best.” Her hand went to the butterfly necklace, holding it in her hand. “I just wish Nicole could be told. It seems unfair not to tell her.”

“Mama said she wrote to Nicole’s mother, telling her the news.”

“So, Nicole knows?” Waverly replied. “I’m glad. In any other circumstance she would have attended.”

Wynonna nodded. “In any other circumstance. I’m sure you will see her in due course. I understand she is enjoying Paris. Knowing Nicole, up to something naughty no doubt.”

“No doubt. She has a tendency to get herself into trouble.”

“James is visiting later, to discuss his position working for father. I believe he’s as excited about that as he is being married. Father’s looking forward to introducing his new son-in-law to the other politicians. He’s extremely proud of the both of you.”

“No doubt,” Waverly repeated, no longer interested in what Wynonna was saying, blanking out anything to do with James.

She didn’t hate James. She didn’t even dislike him. She merely wished she wasn’t marrying him. She had pushed the idea of marriage as far away as she could when she went to Girton, hoping the three years she expected to be there would give her sufficient time to work out what she truly wanted. Now she was only weeks away from an event that would change her life forever. An event she was being forced into because some traitorous person took advantage of her relationship with Nicole. She didn’t necessarily want revenge, although what she would give to be able to tell Jinny what she thought of her, and that brother of hers. No, what she really wanted was peace in her heart. Who she really wanted was Nicole.

Jeremy opened the letter, noticing the French stamp, recognising Nicole’s handwriting immediately. He and Robin poured over the four pages of detailed instructions, nodding, laughing, agreeing between themselves they would assist Nicole in her audacious plan. “She’s certainly thought this through,” Robin said. “Got to hand it to her, it’s clever, if a little risky. Still what fun.”

“So, which costume do you want to wear?” Jeremy asked, re-reading all of Nicole’s instructions.

“I’m in two minds. I think I’ll go with the policeman’s outfit. Always wanted to blow a whistle and shout stop thief!”

“Fine. If it will make you happy. You have that outfit, I’ll have the other one. I’ll get started on the other arrangements, if you could sort out the transport side of things. Once we’re organised I’ll send the message. Carrot cake. Why carrot cake? She knows my favourite is Madeira.”

“No idea,” Robin replied. “Knowing Nicole she’ll have her reasons. I wish we could let her know it was Thoby who went to the press. That bastard. Claimed to love Nicole yet destroys her in the process. Twisted logic.”

“You can tell her when we see her. This is so exciting. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited about anything in my life. Well, apart from meeting you.”

“Do you think we’ll get our names in the paper?” Robin asked, taking the letter from Jeremy.

“Hoping we won’t. I’m hoping Nicole’s covered all angles for us firstly not to get caught. Secondly, not to be named. This is high risk, high reward. We get the girl for our girl.”

Nicole rode out early one morning, stopping at a small kiosk in the park, purchasing a copy of Le Figaro as she had done for the past few days. She had little more than a week before the wedding, wondering whether to simply get to England and work out her plans from there. All she could do was hope her true friends would be there for her in her hour of need. 

Her hands shook as she read through each of the entries in the personal column, desperate to see her message, willing it to be on the page. And there, the second to last message were her words, with an extra message from Jeremy and Robin:

The carrot cake is baked. Ready to eat. Looking forward to sharing it with you. Love J & R.

Her plan to rescue Waverly was now in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le Figaro - is a French daily morning newspaper founded in 1826, published in Paris. It is the oldest national daily in France and is one of the three French newspapers of record, along with Le Monde and Libération.


	30. the Priest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Nicole get to Waverly in time...

Nicole could have kissed every stranger on reading the message. She remounted, heading back to the chateau, knowing she had a chance to make her plan work. Her mother was in her room when she arrived, Nicole grabbing a handful of bread from the breakfast room, rushing to her bedroom to prepare for the journey ahead. 

She would travel light, using a satchel conveniently borrowed, not returned, from one of the gardeners for her few belongings, and a man’s suit found hanging in a closet in one of the many bedrooms. She would need to change out of her clothes on route to England, not to draw too much attention to herself. 

She would catch the 8.20am train out of Paris, arriving in Calais in time to meet the 1.30pm boat to Dover. Once in England, she would travel to London by train, then to Cambridge where she would rendezvous with Jeremy and Robin. Too late to make the Paris train that day, she planned to travel the very next morning, hoping the weather would be on her side. Hoping everything would be on her side to get her Waverly back.

Her mother wanted her to attend an opera that evening, Puccini’s Madame Butterfly, Nicole agreeing, knowing if she cancelled her mother would fuss over her for the rest of the night. It was a pleasant enough performance, Nicole’s mind elsewhere even though the music was entrancing and oddly appropriate for her circumstances. She spent a restless night, trying to sleep, her mind running through all that would need to be done in order for her plan to be successful.

As morning broke, she was up, out of bed, packing the items she would take with her in the satchel, heading to the stables. Her change of clothing had been stashed in a carpet bag in one of the follies in her uncle’s extensive garden, the one hiding place that happened to be the favourite of Edward and Wynonna. She set off shortly before 7am, her usual time of departure, having established a regular pattern to ensure her movements would not raise suspicion. 

Bag collected, she rode the short distance to the station, sending the horse on its way. Clothes changed, she headed into the station disguised as a man, her red hair hidden underneath a cap, hoping to fool those selling her a ticket. “Where to?” the young man behind the counter asked, not looking up.

Nicole deepened her voice. “Londres.”

The young man looked up briefly, not registering her features. “One way, or return?”

“Return,” she replied, knowing if she answered one way it would cause the young man to question the intentions of her journey. And, the fact she had no luggage.

“Pleasant trip,” he said, handing her the ticket, without looking at her.

As the train pulled out of Paris Nicole knew she was doing the right thing. Even if it meant she didn’t get to stop Waverly being married, she would be there for her, show how much she cared, show how much she would do for her beloved. A pretty young woman came and sat opposite, asking if the seat was taken, Nicole nodding her head. The woman asked if she was travelling alone? Nicole shook her head, pointing down the carriage, miming someone who was pregnant. The woman smiled, saying too bad, blowing her a kiss. Nicole watched as the woman moved to a new seat, striking up conversation with another gentleman who was travelling on his own.

Nicole gazed at the passing scenery. Fields and trees, houses and barns, other worlds not connected to hers yet all part of her journey to reach the one she loved. At Calais she boarded the ferry, sitting near the front where it was quiet, pretending to read a newspaper, hoping not to be stopped. She knew she had but a small window to escape France, to reach England without detection, hoping all her planning would pay off.

Her mother would be none the wiser of her absence until late morning, when Nicole usually returned from her ride to have lunch. Nicole banked on a few more hours passing before the horse was caught, identified, returned to her uncle’s stables. That would alert everyone to her disappearance, by which time she would be on the boat to England. If she could get to Cambridge before being spotted, she calculated she had a chance. 

Waverly woke that morning not knowing what was afoot. Breakfasting with her mother, she returned to her room, bored, restless, feeling a need to be free of the prison she seemed to be living in. For some reason her mind kept returning to Nicole, except she was young, ten perhaps, dressed in her pirate’s outfit, shirt unbuttoned, brandishing her sword. “I am here to claim my treasure,” she heard her yell. _Oh Nicole,_ she thought, _if there was ever a time you could save me, now really is the time. I’m doing all of this for us. Wherever you are. I love you._

The boat Nicole was travelling on docked in time to catch the 3.30pm train to Charing Cross, arriving in London shortly after 5pm that evening. She was within walking distance of Waverly’s house, desperate to see her, knowing it would ruin all plans put in place. She counselled herself to have patience, knowing if everything worked out she would be with her.

Jeremy opened the door to the house, his mouth falling open seeing Nicole. “My God, you’re even more attractive as a man. Come in, come in. Why carrot cake?”

“Oh, no reason. Only Waverly wants to grow carrots.”

“Figures. This is so exciting. Robin’s in his element. He’s been wearing the policeman’s outfit for days to get into the part.”

Nicole laughed. “I imagined you in that outfit. So, you’re happy to take the other role?”

“Definitely, my amateur theatrical skills will come into play. Plus, I can’t wait to see Waverly’s face when she recognises me.”

Nicole entered her bedroom, the first time in a month since that article, wanting to stay there, be in the same bed where she and Waverly had sealed their union, knowing she couldn’t. Too risky. She needed a place where she could come and go without being seen. The boys knew just the place. The cottage. Still unrented, given all its faults, Robin had checked it out, figuring Nicole could lie low for a few days. Admittedly, the place was cold, damp and essentially inhabitable since they departed, but needs must.

Nicole lay in bed the night before Waverly's wedding, pulling the blankets round her body, knowing whatever hardships she faced now were nothing compared to a lifetime without Waverly. Had she planned beyond the rescue? Of course not. What pirate ever plans that far ahead? Steal the treasure, figure out the rest afterwards was all that mattered. 

Morning came, she tucked into the food left by Jeremy, shivering at the lack of heat in the cottage, remembering the time she camped out in the woods with only four biscuits and an apple for sustenance. She was older, not necessarily wiser, still as headstrong, still as passionate about life, still as stupid. But, she was in England with a crazy plan to carry out, with every chance of it failing. And, she didn’t care.

Jeremy knocked on the door of the cottage several times. Nicole emerged, pale having not slept much the night before, still not fully dressed, two blankets covering her body. “The train leaves in half an hour,” Jeremy informed, entering, Robin waiting in the carriage outside. “If we miss it, we miss the wedding.”

“Sorry,” Nicole replied. “Bad night. Give me a moment. Be with you shortly.”

She rushed upstairs, donning her outfit, emerging to giggles from Jeremy. “Oh my, I thought you looked good as a suited man. This is too much. Wait till Robin sees you. I’m so glad you included us.”

As she entered the carriage, Robin burst out laughing. “Perfect. Utterly, utterly perfect.”

“Too much?” Nicole asked, wondering if she perhaps should have dressed less conspicuously.”

“No. Well, yes. But, so you. My God, this is going to be a fun day.”

Waverly sat in her wedding dress, looking at her reflection in the mirror, wondering how her life had ended up like this. Her mother wanted her to wear her diamond necklace to set off the neckline of her dress, Waverly refusing, insisting she would wear her butterfly charm. With nowhere to carry Nicole’s soldier and coin, she placed them in her jewellery box to be reunited later.

Her family were waiting for her as she descended the stairs, Wynonna the nearest, tears in her eyes as she saw her baby sister. “You look beautiful,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

She had chosen Wynonna to be her Maid of Honour, much to the annoyance of Isobel. She didn’t care. She was in no mood to pander to her soon-to-be sister-in-law. Their friendship was already tarnished by this whole affair, Waverly no longer concerned who she offended. She would get married, be with James, find a way to be with Nicole. A simple plan, requiring no further help from those who sought out her friendship for their own ends.

Had she been wounded by this whole affair? Most certainly. Her delicate wings ripped off. She now knew the world, beyond any caves that might scare her, a world that could be cruel, self-serving and indifferent to her needs. She wished she could turn back time, to a moment before the newspaper article was released, to a moment before the party when all was well, when all pointed to a future with Nicole. Yet, she couldn’t. There was no going back. Only forward, to a life without the one who would forever have her heart.

She entered the carriage, on route to St. Elthelreda’s, resigned to the fact everyone else had won. Everyone else’s voice had been louder than hers, as she sat quietly and let it all happen to her. _I am merely a doll,_ she thought, _an adornment for others, an afterthought, to be discarded when no longer of use. I have no use, other than what others need me to be._

She could hear the bells as she approached the church, a small group of well-wishers outside cheering. Given the speed of events, this was not a large gathering, sufficient family inside the church to make the day, not enough to draw too much attention. 

Wynonna held her hand in the carriage, telling her over, and over, and over, she was doing the right thing, that in time she would see this was the best for everyone. She forced a smile. 

Her father was waiting at the entrance, ready to take up his duty of escorting his youngest daughter down the aisle. He beamed as he saw her emerge from the carriage, a proud father if ever there was. She took his arm, the doors opening to allow them to enter together, a gasp from the congregation as they saw Waverly for the first time. 

She barely noticed those who were in attendance, her eyes focused on the altar ahead, the priest standing ready to welcome her and James to married life. She couldn’t see James, hidden by the throng of people, knowing he was there somewhere, ready to claim her as his own. She could feel her heart wanting to break free, like the poor, lonely butterfly trapped in a room, seeing there was a world beyond, not being able to get to it. _If only Nicole was here,_ she thought, as each step brought her closer to a destiny she didn’t want. 

Her father stopped, their journey together complete, waiting for James to join her. She felt his presence, not wanting to look up, wanting the ceremony to be over as quickly as possible.

“Dearly beloved,” the priest began. “We are gathered here today in the presence of God.”

Waverly raise her eyes, recognising the voice, not believing who was standing before her. Her mouth fell open, unable to say anything at the sight of Jeremy, dressed as a priest, officiating at her wedding. He winked at her, continuing his introduction as if it was the most natural thing to do.

“To witness the marriage of Waverly to James. I’m sorry, can anyone smell smoke?”

The congregation turned to each other, wondering what was happening, no one smelling smoke. Jeremy continued his speech. “Today is an auspicious day for the marriage of this young couple. I definitely smell smoke.”

James was getting impatient. “Father, please. There’s no smoke.”

Waverly was beginning to enjoy the day more than she hoped, guessing who was behind all this. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jeremy said. “Let us continue.”

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of…fire!…oh, my Lord…fire. Back of the church,” the congregation turning to see what the priest was pointing to.

Jeremy grabbed Waverly’s hand, dragging her to a side room, locking the door on entry, hugging her as she hugged him. “Quick question, do you want to get married?” he asked, as he pulled away. “We can go back to getting married, although legally not, given I’m not ordained.”

“God, no,” Waverly said. “Jeremy, why are you dressed as a priest?”

Waverly felt familiar hands cover her eyes. “Because of me. Hello Wiggle. Did you miss me?”

Waverly’s legs went from under her, the realisation Nicole was with her too much. She felt arms keeping her up, guiding her to a chair, Nicole’s hand on her cheek. “I know, too good looking after all these weeks apart. Understandable.”

She flung her arms around Nicole’s neck, never wanting to let go. “You took your time. And, why are you dressed as a pirate?”

“Appearances,” Nicole replied. “All for appearances. Now, the plan is Robin will stall everyone from leaving the church, while we make a speedy exit on horses.”

“You have got to be joking,” Waverly said. “Why didn’t you get a car?”

“Can’t drive. Looks better you me in costume on horseback through London.”

“God, I love you Nicole Haught. And, you Jeremy priest Chetri. Very you.”

“Do you think so?” Jeremy replied, proud of his outfit. “I do think it’s me. Should we be thinking about leaving? There’s only so much smoke without an actual fire.”

Nicole placed a black cloak over Waverly’s shoulders. “From now on we are highway men, women. From now on we are bandits, pirates, in search of adventure. Are you up for that?”

Waverly paused. “Let me think. A life I didn’t choose, or one with someone who would go to all this trouble just to be with me. Decisions. Decisions.”

“You’d better decide fast,” Nicole advised. “I can hear banging on the door.”

“Difficult. Let me see. What’s in this for me?”

Nicole gasped. “Oh my word! Waverly Earp, you pirate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> British Passport - In the late 19th century, an increasing number of Britons began travelling abroad due to the advent of railways and travel services such as the Thomas Cook Continental Timetable. The speed of trains, as well as the number of passengers that crossed multiple borders, made enforcement of passport laws difficult, and many travellers did not carry a passport in this era. 
> 
> The outbreak of World War I led to the introduction of modern border controls, including in the UK with the passing of the British Nationality and Status of Aliens Act 1914. In 1915 the British government developed a new format of passport that could be mass-produced and used to quickly identify the bearer. 
> 
> St. Ethelreda's Church - a stone’s throw from the noise and bustle of modern London, hemmed in by the glittering wealth of Hatton Garden, where gold, silver and diamonds are traded and millions of pounds change hands daily. It is the oldest Catholic church in England and one of only two remaining buildings in London from the reign of Edward I. 
> 
> http://www.stetheldreda.com/index.php/history-of-st-etheldredas/#8


	31. the Prize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly gets her girl. Now to escape...

Jeremy was growing anxious. “I don’t want to rush you, but we really do need to leave.”

“I’m waiting, Nicole Haught,” Waverly said. “What can you offer me?”

Nicole knelt before her. “A cartload of carrots. And, my heart for eternity. Waverly Earp, I will love you till the day I die, which will be soon if we don’t get going.”

Waverly kissed her on the cheek. “Perfect. Let’s go Red. I adore your outfit, by the way.”

Jeremy guided them out to where two black horses awaited, handing Nicole both reins. “I wish you success. Don’t write. Just let me know when the cake is baked.”

Nicole winked, donning a cloak, helping Waverly onto her horse before mounting, leading them out of Ely Place. They could hear Robin blowing his whistle telling everyone to remain calm and seated, Jeremy disappearing back inside. Nicole couldn’t help but grin, recognising how much trouble she was causing while getting away with her prize. 

Holborn was busy, allowing the fleeing lovers to blend in with the multitude of carriages and other riders. Their immediate destination was The George in Southwark, a coaching inn, where Robin had reserved two spaces on a mail coach leaving for Dover that evening. A change of clothes had been left at the inn in readiness for the next part of their journey. 

Nicole hoped they could slip across to France dressed as men, Jeremy providing Waverly’s clothing given their similarity in size. Waverly followed Nicole through London, free at last, free of her responsibilities, free of the burden she had been asked to carry for the sake of her family. Her lover was leading her to a new life, one she wanted more than anything, even if it meant abandoning her family, even if it meant never seeing them again, even if it meant damaging her father’s career. 

Nicole turned left towards the River Thames and London Bridge. From there it was a short ride to the inn, where they could hide until time to depart for the coast. Entering the courtyard, Nicole dismounted, holding the reins of Waverly’s horse. “Put the cloak over your head,” Nicole instructed, waiting for Waverly to do so. “We need to keep a low profile.”

Waverly nodded, confident whatever plan Nicole had it was working so far. They moved swiftly to the rear of the inn, heading upstairs to private rooms, one of which would be theirs for a few hours. Nicole had the key, letting them in, closing the door, leaning against it, breathing a sigh of relief. “Well, that was tremendous fun,” she said, looking at Waverly, the pair bursting into laughter.

Waverly leant against her, hearing Nicole’s heart beating through the pirate’s outfit. “Only you could turn up to my wedding dressed like this. Glad you did.”

“And, you look beautiful in that dress. Is that my necklace?”

Waverly nodded. “I’ve worn it ever since we parted. To keep you close to me. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’m a bad penny,” Nicole replied. “Guaranteed to cause chaos wherever I go. We made it. We actually made it. You’re sure you want this? We can go back if you want.”

“Yes, let’s return to the wedding I never wanted, shall we. Why not?”

“I read your mother’s letter. She didn’t want this for you, but events were beyond her control.”

“Once the Palace became involved it seems everyone’s hands were tied. Mine especially.”

Nicole shuddered at the mention of tied hands. “I wish you hadn’t put that in my head. You tied to that bed over there. Me showing you how much I love you.”

Waverly looked over, her heart beating faster, wanting this moment. “You know this would have been my wedding night,” she said, turning round, dropping the cloak from her shoulders, Nicole beginning to unbutton the back of her dress. “It would be a shame to waste that bed.”

“My thoughts exactly. I never thought I would be removing a wedding dress from you.”

“I never thought I’d be making love to you dressed as a pirate.”

Nicole kissed Waverly’s neck softly as she removed her arms from the dress. “I dreamt of you every night,” Nicole said, helping to push the dress down over Waverly’s hips. “And, every waking moment. When I read you were getting married my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.”

“What we did in Cambridge,” Waverly replied, “the memory of you beside me asleep kept me going. I would go through hell for one more moment like that.”

“For me it was the Eiffel Tower.”

“What?” Waverly asked. “No. I give up. Explain.”

“Wynonna tried to convince you to venture to the top. Remember. You were scared, but I could tell you would do it because Wynonna was begging you. I said we would return another day.”

“We never did return.”

“Because I knew you would let Wynonna persuade you to do something against your will. You always sacrifice your happiness for the happiness of others. I couldn’t let you do that. Plus, I’m selfish enough to want you for myself.”

The noise from the customers below drowned out the moans coming from their room. Wave after wave of pleasure engulfed their bodies as they waited for their ride, knowing in a few hours they would be on their way to a life in another country.

Nicole’s mother was frantic with worry. The horse was returned, minus its rider, the afternoon of Nicole’s departure. Given her daughter’s health, she believed Nicole must have fallen off and was now lying injured. Police scoured the city, asking if a well-dressed woman with distinctive red hair had been seen. No one had. 

A senior officer was assigned to find Nicole, visiting the chateau, asking for any information that might assist their enquiries. Her mother wanted to tell him about Waverly, daring not to, not wanting to believe Nicole would be so stupid as to return to England. And yet, as each day passed the thought of her daughter fleeing to be with Waverly became more palatable than the thought of her hurt, worse dead, somewhere in Paris. 

She now faced a dilemma. Should she inform Waverly’s mother of Nicole’s disappearance, or keep quiet? She decided on the latter, accepting if Nicole had returned to England she would not stop her. She wished she had been as courageous when it came to matters of the heart. She hadn’t. That no longer mattered. If that was where Nicole was she would let her be with her lover.

“As much as I’d love to stay here, with you,” Nicole said, kissing a path back up Waverly’s body, “I think we should be getting ready for Dover.”

“Are we going to France?” Waverly asked, trying to remove her hands from the pirate scarf Nicole had tied a little too tightly. 

Nicole sat up on her heels. “France, then Switzerland. A small village near where I studied. No one will think to look for us there. I can get work at one of the local schools. Or, you can, if you would like that. I’ll learn how to bake. We’ll live on Swiss cheese and bread. I’m hoping with the little money I have we won’t starve.”

The enormity of Nicole’s sacrifice hit her like a wave, her hands suddenly struggling to break free. “Oh, Nicole. I can’t let you do this for me. I can’t let you ruin your life. Let me go.”

“Hey, hey,” Nicole soothed, releasing Waverly. “I like Swiss cheese. The holes are delicious.”

Waverly sat up, looking at the one person who had stayed true to her all her life. “I love you too much to let you do this. There’s got to be another way.”

Nicole placed her hand on Waverly’s cheek, brushing away a few tears. “My love, it means nothing without you. I am happy to give it all up to be with you. Dry your eyes. Put away your martyrdom and come with me. If you dare.”

By the time Robin unlocked the front door of the church, Nicole and Waverly were long gone. He and Jeremy slipped away unnoticed, taking refuge in the upstairs bar of Ye Olde Mitre pub, close to the church. Dressed as dapper City men, they blended in, supping pints as real policemen untied a rather irrate priest and sorted out the mess Nicole had left in her wake. Waverly’s father was livid, James in shock, Wynonna guessing this was all Nicole’s doing. 

Edward had their youngest in his arms, another child tugging at his trousers to be lifted up. “Where’s your sister?” he asked, handing over the crying child. 

“The priest took her to safety, I think.” Wynonna replied, pushing her way past Edward, running to the side door, banging on it to be let in. 

James approached, placing a hand on her arm. “She’s gone, hasn’t she?”

Wynonna nodded, realising in that moment she had let her sister down.

Dressed as men, Waverly and Nicole made their way to the courtyard. They had ten minutes to board, Nicole looking at Waverly hoping she would go with her, Waverly smiling back, confirming she wanted to go. The carriage was empty apart from an old woman, on her way to visit relatives, smiling as they entered, offering them homemade biscuits from a tin as the carriage swept out of London. 

The first stop was an inn twenty miles outside the city. A chance to stretch their legs, change horses for the longer journey ahead. Nicole and Waverly sat quietly at a table by the window, supping their beer from tankards, Waverly hating the taste, trying to drink it, her face saying otherwise. Nicole finished hers, quickly swapping tankards, ever mindful of their actions drawing attention. 

New horses, refreshed customers, the coach was ready to depart for Dover, the lovers now alone in the carriage. “I think I’m drunk,” Nicole said, burping loudly.

“Great,” Waverly replied. “On our wedding night.”

“Shush. We can’t be. We’re both men,” Nicole said, finding it funny, giggling at the situation.

They felt the carriage move out, holding onto the sides as it left the inn, the motion sending Nicole to sleep as they journeyed together towards the unknown. Waverly leant across, balancing herself as the carriage bounced along the road, managing to capture Nicole’s lips, waking her as she felt the touch. “We did it,” Waverly whispered, her lips finding the only home she ever wanted.

Waverly lay against Nicole’s body. _You no longer scare me,_ she thought. _You delight me, surprise me, annoy me. But, you no longer scare me, my darling._

Nicole was fast asleep as the carriage slowed just outside Canterbury, a middle-aged man entering, smartly dressed sitting opposite. “My apologies,” he said, as the carriage began moving. “Need to be in Dover by morning.”

Nicole snored loudly, unware someone had joined the carriage, earning a kick to the ankle from Waverly. She knew better than to speak, knowing her voice would give away the fact she wasn’t a man. The gentleman busied himself reading a newspaper, tutting occasionally at whatever it said. As they drew near Dover, Waverly could see the sea, her heart beating faster knowing they would be on a boat shortly, heading to a new life together. 

Nicole woke with a start, opening her eyes, seeing the stranger sitting opposite. She nodded, the gentleman nodding back studying her face. He returned to his newspaper, Nicole thankful he didn’t want to strike up a conversation. The port was busy, cargo being loaded, passengers waiting to board. Tickets ready they joined the queue, edging closer to the boat. “Tickets please,” a gruff man said, grabbing them from Nicole, punching a hole in both, handing them back. 

They were free. They were on their way. 

“Not so fast,” a voice said. “Nicole Haught, I’m arresting you for kidnap.”

Nicole swung round. Two policemen were behind them, a pair of handcuffs ready to place on her wrists. “Waverly run,” she shouted, hoping she could get away.

“Not without you,” she replied, holding out her hands assuming she was under arrest too.

The policeman shook his head. “Miss Earp, you are not under arrest.”

“Let me introduce myself. Inspector Robert Swan,” a man said, approaching. “You both will have to come with me.”

“Where?” Waverly asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

The inspector chuckled. “Why, the Tower of London. Where traitors are dealt with.”

The train journey back to London was miserable, forced to sit apart, each guarded by a policeman. Inspector Swan sat opposite Nicole, he too reading a newspaper to occupy his time. Nicole spotted the headline, “Politician’s Daughter Kidnapped.” 

Arriving in London they were marched off the train towards a waiting carriage, Nicole remaining in handcuffs, earning stares and shocked looks from fellow travellers. Sitting together once more, Waverly held Nicole’s hand, tears falling, trapped yet again by those who did not love her as Nicole loved her. The policeman sitting opposite gave them a hard stare, shaking his head, not passing any comment.

“Waverly, I’m sorry,” Nicole whispered, wanting to brush away her tears, feeling her own about to fall.

“We tried. It wasn’t meant to be. I love you.”

The policeman coughed loudly, Nicole glaring at him. “I love you too,” she announced, making sure she was heard.

As they swept into the grounds of Buckingham Palace, Nicole and Waverly looked at each other wondering what was about to happen. “This isn’t the Tower,” Waverly whispered, as the carriage pulled up. 

Nicole was just as confused. “That’s some consolation. I was beginning to get an itchy feeling round my neck.”

“Don’t joke,” Waverly replied. 

Nicole knew Waverly was right. What she had done went against the wishes of the Queen. Now, they were about to enter the Palace to meet their fate. A smartly dressed coachman opened the door, Nicole wondering if they could make a run for it until she saw guards with guns marching towards them.

The pair were led into the palace, a long hallway ahead, paintings on walls, vases on tables, red velvet chairs. A feast for the eyes and senses, Waverly trying to take it all in, nausea hitting her as they approached a door at the far end. The guard knocked loudly. 

A portly gentleman opened the door. “Bring them in. I will interview each separately.”

Nicole looked at Waverly. “It’s fine. Waverly, it’s fine.”

Waverly shook her head to say this wasn’t fine. They were in a lot of trouble. Ushered into the room, the gentleman returned to his seat behind a large wooden desk. He began writing.

“I’m really sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused,” Waverly said, glancing over at Nicole.

“Are you Miss Earp?” the gentleman replied. “Are you indeed.”

Waverly nodded, wanting to hold Nicole’s hand, not being able to move for fear. The portly man turned to Nicole. “I assume you are behind all this. The person who kidnapped this young lady, in a soldier’s outfit, on horseback, in broad daylight.”

“Yes, that’s right. This is all my doing. I kidnapped Waverly. She had nothing to do with this, apart from being kidnapped. And, if you could note it was a pirate’s outfit.”

“Nicole, shush,” Waverly said. “You’re not helping our case.”

The man stopped writing, waiting for them to stop talking. “You do realise you are in very serious trouble. It is my task to find out the truth as to this matter. I suggest you think very carefully before answering me.”

“Will we go to the Tower?” Waverly asked, without thinking.

“A consideration. Now, Miss Earp please follow me. Miss Haught take a seat, I will return to deal with you shortly.”

A parting look between the lovers, Waverly disappeared through another door, Nicole suddenly not feeling quite so confident. The man marched on ahead, Waverly trying to keep up as best she could. Arriving at double doors, he knocked, two footmen in smart uniforms appeared allowing them to enter. 

The room was brightly lit by several large windows, a collection of expensive furniture and ornaments, a large fireplace with armchairs arranged for comfort. In the far corner was an elderly woman at a writing desk, dressed entirely in black, her back to them, busy with her correspondence. 

The man waited for the woman to put down her pen, turning her head slightly. He bowed. “Your majesty, may I present Miss Waverly Earp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The George - a public house established in the medieval period on Borough High Street in Southwark, London, owned and leased by the National Trust. Located on the south side of the River Thames, near London Bridge, it is the only surviving galleried London coaching inn. Yep, drank in The George quite a few times...!
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_George_Inn,_Southwark
> 
> Ye Olde Mitre - an alleyway links Ely Place, where St. Ethelreda's is located to this tiny tavern. Frequented by City workers, it is tucked away behind Hatton Garden, a secret drinking place. It serves homemade scotch eggs, sausage rolls and toasted cheese sandwiches. Oh, and beer...plenty of beer. And yes, it was a regular haunt of mine...!
> 
> https://www.yeoldemitreholborn.co.uk/


	32. the Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Nicole and Waverly get the ending they deserve...
> 
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. The final chapter. 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed reading this tall tale as much as I've enjoyed playing with these cheeky characters. 
> 
> If I can think of a way to extend this story I will. For now I bid you adieu, bon chance and lots of carrot cake...!
> 
> .

The Queen approached, the portly gentleman bowing once more, backing towards the door. Waverly wasn’t sure whether to bow or curtsey, deciding it was probably more polite to curtsey. The Queen acknowledged her presence with a small nod of the head, studying Waverly’s face, then her clothing. “You are William’s daughter,” she began, “the one getting married.”

Waverly nodded.

“Is this what you wore to your wedding?” the Queen asked.

Waverly shook her head.

“Speak child. Why are you dressed in men’s clothing?”

“Because…because, I was running away.”

“Running away, from your own wedding dressed like this.”

“To France. To be with Nicole.”

The Queen looked perplexed. “Did you not want to be married?”

Waverly shook her head. “I was doing it to save my father and my family.”

The Queen looked even more perplexed. “You were prepared to be married because of them. Why not for love?”

Waverly was now the one wearing a puzzled expression. “Because I love another. One I am not allowed to be with.”

“Who is that?” the Queen asked.

“Nicole Haught. Nicholas Haught’s daughter.”

“Ah, Nicholas. That old rogue. I am assuming his daughter is as spirited as he is.”

Waverly nodded. “Always gets herself into trouble. I’m so very sorry she did this. She doesn’t mean to be this naughty.”

“I am assuming you were given little choice in the matter of marriage. I must say I am a little annoyed with your father. I gave him instructions you were to marry for love. He assured me that was so.”

Waverly gasped. “My father may have believed so. He doesn't know I love Nicole, although I’m guessing it would not have made much difference. Marrying James is the respectable thing to do.”

“Really?” the Queen asked. “To marry without love is a tragedy. What a sad life you would have led. Trapped inside something from which you would seek escape, like a butterfly, wings beating against glass for freedom.”

Waverly’s mouth was now open. The Queen of England was on the same page as her and Nicole, Waverly wanting to hug the woman standing before her.

“My child, you look shocked. Have I said something to offend?”

“I…I am that butterfly.”

“May I ask?” the Queen said, guiding Waverly to an armchair by the fire. “If I were to give you a choice, who would you choose?”

“Nicole,” Waverly declared, without hesitation.

The Queen smiled. “And, if I were to give Nicole the same choice, who would she choose?”

“I’m hoping me.”

“Shall we ask her? But, I must ask something of you. If you would hide behind that screen and let Nicole answer freely.”

Waverly looked to where the Queen was pointing. “Anything, if it means we can be together.”

Nicole was escorted to the room, Waverly now hiding from view, praying Nicole would say what she most wanted to hear. Still in handcuffs, recognising the Queen immediately, Nicole curtseyed, her gaze lowered.

The Queen stood before her. “Nicole Haught, you do appear to cause trouble wherever you go.”

“I can explain,” Nicole replied, Waverly almost about to tell her to stop, knowing it would probably get her into even more trouble.

“I am sure it is a fascinating story. Let us sit while you recount your adventure.”

Nicole hadn’t expected such a lenient invitation, hesitating before moving towards the armchair to which the Queen was pointing. She waited for the Queen to be seated, wondering how to explain her feelings, realising this might be the last chance she would ever get to profess her love for Waverly. “I desperately tried not to love Waverly. We were childhood friends, I put a worm on her plate, threatened to steal her dolly, nearly drowned in a cave with her. She lights up every room she enters. She doesn’t know that. She thinks I do. I don’t. It is Waverly who fills the room with love.”

“Go on, I am intrigued. This Waverly.”

“I would gladly sacrifice my life for hers. I would willingly die a hundred times, no a thousand times, the most horrible deaths imaginable, if it would spare Waverly.”

“I see. I am afraid given what you have done to embarrass me that will be the case.”

“I’m off to the Tower aren’t I?” Nicole asked.

The Queen laughed. “Yes, the Tower. I am in the mood for a beheading.”

The colour left Nicole’s face. “Then, let it be so. But, I did all of this for love. For one person.”

“To be clear,” the Queen said. “You would lose your head for Waverly Earp.”

Nicole nodded. “I have already lost my heart to her. My head is of little consequence.”

“Oh, to be young again. And so in love. I fear I may have deceived you for my own amusement.”

“Could I see Waverly before you remove my head?” Nicole asked, not realising the Queen was playing a game. “I’d like her to remember me in one piece. Leaves a better impression.”

Waverly’s laugh gave away her hiding place, appearing from behind the screen, rushing to hug Nicole. “I love you, with or without your head. Preferably with your head and that red hair of yours.”

The Queen coughed politely, Waverly remembering she was in the presence of royalty, blushing. “My dears, shall we have tea and perhaps remove those handcuffs.”

Nicole stared at the Queen. “You’re letting me go? Without sending me to the Tower to meet a gruesome death.”

“I am. Unless you want to make the front page of The Times again,” the Queen offered.

“No!” the lovers replied, never wanting to be front page news ever again.

Tea requested, handcuffs removed, the Queen asked what their plans were, Nicole saying not to lose her head, earning a thump from Waverly. “There’s a cottage in Cambridge,” Waverly said, placing her cup down. “It’s run down, hopefully for sale. I’d like to live there with Nicole, perhaps finish my studies at Girton. Nicole said she’d learn how to bake. I might teach. Grow carrots.”

“I never said I’d learn to bake in England. We could go to Switzerland. Eat cheese with holes in.”

“Nicole,” the Queen interrupted. “I still have the power to remove your head. Decide now where you will live, or I will ask my guards to escort you somewhere less pleasant.”

“England,” Nicole said, at the same time Waverly said Switzerland, the Queen rolling her eyes.

“Why not live in England and holiday in Switzerland,” the Queen suggested. “We have better cheese.”

“You may not remember,” Nicole said, smiling at the Queen. “We met when I was younger. You came to Wattlestone. We had a lift installed for you.”

“My word,” the Queen replied. “That’s right. I would not travel in it. Your father kept insisting I try. Oh, and there was a child with a wooden sword, pretending to be a pirate. Tell me that was not you.”

Nicole nodded. “I ran into your bedroom brandishing my sword, telling you I was Red the Pirate, saying traitors will walk the plank.”

The Queen laughed. “That is so. We sat talking for hours until your mother found you and dragged you out. You were such a delight. So spirited. Do you remember what I told you?”

Nicole had to think. “Your sword. You said if I ever came to your house you would show me your sword.”

“Indeed. That is so. I am minded to show you my sword now.”

Nicole looked puzzled, wondering whether the Queen of England expected her to have a sword fight. “I’d let you win,” she replied. “It’s not fair fighting you.”

The Queen laughed. “Waverly, I now understand why you love her. She’s delightful. No, I do not intend to fight you Nicole Haught.”

The Queen rang a small bell, a servant entering immediately, nodding as the Queen whispered something in his ear, returning with the Curtana, the ceremonial sword of mercy, its end blunt and squared. “This was used at my coronation,” she said, taking the sword from the guard holding it ready for her. “It would not be good in a fight, but it can be used to knight a person.”

The Queen motioned for Nicole to kneel before her. “Nicole Haught. No, Red the Pirate, I knight you as protector of Waverly. Arise Sir Red.”

Nicole stood, placing her hand over her heart, bowing. “Could I ask a favour?" she said. "Would you mind knighting Waverly too, given she’ll have to put up with me.”

The Queen laughed. “I admire your cheek. Of course, Waverly kneel before me.”

Waverly did as she was told, not quite believing she was in the presence of the Queen being knighted.

“Waverly Earp, I knight you as protector of Red the Pirate. Arise Sir Waverly.”

“So, that went better than expected,” Nicole said, as their carriage swept out of Buckingham Palace.

Waverly hugged Nicole’s arm. “The Queen of England has knighted us, allowed us to be together and will make sure the newspapers print no more stories. I’m dreaming. Seriously, I thought we would not get a happy ending.”

“Me too. I thought I’d end up with my head bouncing across cobblestones.”

“You never told me you met the Queen. There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

“Mother was furious. I managed to distract her, I think I set fire to some books, burst into the Queen’s bedroom brandishing my wooden sword, shirt open. She pretended to be surprised, I telling her she would have to walk the plank. I think she would have simply for the fun of it. She leads such a confined life she was glad of the games of a small child.”

“That’s so sad,” Waverly said. “I feel so sorry for her.”

“I remember we talked about the pond, about how she used to go swimming naked in a lake on her estate with her cousins, how her freedom gradually was taken from her. She asked me to promise her I would never lose my spirit. Never succumb to a world that would tell me what to do.”

“And, you never did.”

“So, Sir Waverly, where to?”

“My house. I need to say goodbye to my family. Then Cambridge.”

The Royal carriage pulled up outside, Waverly exiting first, still dressed as a man, Nicole following. She rang the bell, taking Nicole’s hand, waiting for the door open. Wynonna appeared, staring at the pair in disbelief, rushing to hug her sister. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you.”

“Wyn, it’s alright. I understand. Can I come in?”

“Yes, yes. We heard you were at the Palace. What happened?”

“Very, very long story. Are mama and papa angry?”

“A little. You scared everyone. And, Haught don’t you ever do anything like that again. You hear.”

“I don’t intend to. And, it’s Sir Red to you.”

Wynonna led the way to the parlour, Waverly’s mother hugging her, refusing to let go. The couple explained what had happened, Waverly's father silent, willing to accept if the Queen approved of their relationship he would have to accommodate it. “I am happy for James to work with me, if he so wishes,” he said, eyeing Nicole suspiciously. “The fellow has been wronged, it’s the least I can do.”

“That is very kind father,” Waverly replied. “We plan to travel to Cambridge tomorrow. We can stay in a hotel tonight.”

“Nonsense,” her mother replied. “You will stay here. To think you have the Queen’s blessing.”

“I know,” Nicole replied. “For some reason she was under the impression Waverly wanted to marry James. I wonder why?”

Waverly’s father puffed on his cigar, remaining silent. 

They spent the night in Waverly’s bed, making sure not to make too much noise. In the morning, they departed for Cambridge, staying with Jeremy and Robin until the purchase of the cottage was completed. It needed a lot of work, the couple determined to bring it back to life, make it their castle to be defended against all those who had sought to keep them apart.

Robin and Jeremy were the first to visit once the work was finished, agreeing the cottage was alive once more. A boozy night, Nicole dressing as a pirate to the amusement of everyone, she lay in bed, kissing Waverly's shoulder. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Not lately,” Waverly replied. “I’m guessing you’ve grown tired of me. Like a doll.”

Nicole pinned Waverly to the bed. “Never. You are just as much a pirate as I am.”

“I know. I stole your heart. And, I refuse to give it back. I will protect it with my life.”

“And, I yours,” Nicole replied.

Wynonna visited often with Alice, enjoying the tranquillity of the cottage, bemoaning her responsibilities as a mother, Alice rolling her eyes. “I can stay here, mama” Alice said, one extended visit. “Nicole said she would teach me to bake. And, aunty Waverly would like to help me with my studies.”

“As long as you wouldn’t be a burden.”

“Nonsense,” Waverly replied. “We’d love to have Alice, wouldn’t we Nicole.”

Nicole emerged from the kitchen covered in flour, much to everyone’s amusement. “Of course. I’m gradually getting the hang of this baking lark. You can help me. There’s a fair bit to do for the Queen’s visit.”

Wynonna gasped. “The Queen, coming here. When?”

“Thursday,” Nicole replied, brushing flour from her hands. “She wants me to teach her how to cheat at chess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A year ago I started writing fan fiction. My first fic was 2,000 words. Someone suggested adding a second chapter, taking it to 4,000 words. To me that was A LOT OF WORDS...! I'd never written dialogue before, had no idea how to plot a story (still don't..!), wasn't sure this was for me.
> 
> 27 fan fics later (34, as withdrew some), I'm at 80,000 words for my longer stories, gradually learning how to write dialogue and still enjoying the challenge. Not sure what I'll write next, but, am so glad you're with me on this journey. 
> 
> In love & light...
> 
> (ps. Sorry, I kind of cheated...Queen Victoria died in 1901, but given the Queen is the most important piece on a chess board, I decided I'd be cheeky like Red the Pirate...or rather Sir Red..!)


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